


Crash Sites

by boombangbing



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Break Up, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Past Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 75,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boombangbing/pseuds/boombangbing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Thor: The Dark World. Jane tries to get her life together after everything settles down, but finds that it's hard to go back and harder still to let go of the Aether. She isn't the Jane that she was, and she's not sure that she likes who she's becoming. She's never been this angry, this long before, but if there's one person who understands, it's Bruce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Word to the wise, if you're a big Jane/Thor shipper, this probably isn't the fic for you...
> 
> (Title from Rilo Kiley's _Science vs Romance_.)

Jane passes another night restless and sweaty, while Thor sleeps on beside her. That man can _sleep_. She spends a long time just watching the steady rise and fall of his chest before giving up and getting out of bed. It's five am and sleep is a lost dream for another night.

She tiptoes out into living room as quietly as she can, because she's pretty sure her mom is getting sick of having everyone in her apartment – her daughter, her late husband's best friend, a superhero/god/alien, some girl, and some guy who doesn't technically live there but is always around. If everything wasn't so damn expensive in London, Jane would have found a place to rent and moved out, but with what's left of her savings, it just isn't possible. And Thor might be rich beyond imagination, but there's no exchange rate on Asgardian gold yet.

The living room is lit up by soft light when she gets in there, coming from Erik hunched over his laptop, oblivious to her presence. He's been getting better since Thor returned and everything he knew to be true was validated (and probably since the news of Loki's death, but that's still pretty raw for Thor, so she hasn't mentioned it), but he's still not like he was before, and she thinks he probably never will be.

Sometimes she wonders if she'll be either.

She leaves him to his laptop and slips into the kitchen to get herself a glass of water.

-

By mid-morning, her mother has left for work, Darcy has gone out exploring London with Ian, and Erik has disappeared into his bedroom, leaving Jane with post-shower wet hair and Thor sitting on the couch, looking very confused as he watches _The Jeremy Kyle Show_.

“Jane, why are so many mortal men so repelled by fatherhood?” he asks, hunched over, staring intently at the screen.

“I don't know,” she says absently. Thor asks a lot of questions about things, which she guesses is understandable, but they're not all winners.

“But surely,” he continues, leaning back to look at her, the couch creaking unhappily. “Fatherhood is among the greatest of life's joys.”

“I guess...” she murmurs, towelling at her hair.

“I would never disrespect the mother of my child in such a way,” he says.

“Uh huh,” she says, lowering the towel and combing her fingers through her hair.

Thor looks at her for a moment, then turns back to the TV. Jane squeezes the last of the excess water out of her hair and turns towards the bathroom to get her comb.

“And why do their teeth look like that?” he adds. “Isn't there free healthcare in this land? Darcy seemed rather impassioned about the NSH...”

Jane sighs and tosses her towel onto the couch. “I'm going to go out.”

“Oh!” Thor says, and reaches for the remote.

“I'm only going to the corner to get... milk,” she rushes on quickly. “I won't be long.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep,” she says, grabbing her coat from the hook and her keys from the bowl. “I'll be back soon.”

“Okay...” he says to her departing back.

Her hair is still wet when she gets outside, and there's a chill in the air, so she hunches into her coat and hurries down the road. There aren't many people out, this being a weekday and people having jobs and all. Unlike her. She's applied to a good twenty labs and not even got one response back.

Her entrance into the corner shop is marked by a jingle of the bell overhead, and the shop assistant flicks his eyes to her for a moment, then back to the customer he's serving. Jane sighs quietly and walks over to the food aisle. She's actually starting to miss New Mexico, the people were friendly there.

They don't need milk – they don't need anything, really – so she just grabs a handful of candy bars and a packet of chips. She really needs to get a job, if these are the things she's doing just to get out of the house.

She takes the food up to the cash desk and digs her wallet out of her coat pocket. She doesn't have any cash on her, so she pulls out her debit card instead and the cashier rings up the items in silence.

“Three pounds,” the guy says, gesturing at the card reader, and she puts it in and keys in her PIN.

CARD ERROR, the reader says.

“Um...” she murmurs, trying to get the bored guy's attention. “The thing says there's a problem?”

He sighs and presses some buttons on the cash register. “Try again.”

She dutifully tries again, to the same result, and the guy looks at her like she's an idiot. “The system's rejecting your card,” he says, “do you have cash?”

“Um, no, I, uh...” She glances behind her, where there's a short line forming, and feels her cheeks warm up. “I don't know why it's...”

“Uh huh,” he mutters. “Well, why don't I hold your stuff and you can come back when you've sorted things out with your... bank.” The look he gives her says he knows he'll never see her again, and her face is likely flaming red now.

“Um, yeah, um, okay, thanks,” she mumbles, stuffing her card back into her wallet. “Um... sorry.”

He nods and turns his attention to the next customer as she scurries out of the shop. She stands outside in abject embarrassment for a moment, then goes over to a nearby ATM and puts her card in, calling up her account balance.

Two pounds.

She has two pounds in her current account, and knows she doesn't have much more in her savings. _Darcy_ probably has more money than that. She stares at the ATM for a moment, as a line forms behind her there too, then cancels the transaction and gets her card back. She doesn't want to go back to the apartment, but clearly there's nowhere else to go, so she drags her feet home and gets back to Thor still watching shitty daytime television. He turns and looks at her as she enters and frowns. 

“No milk?”

She shrugs. “They, uh, they didn't have any.”

“Ah,” he murmurs, and gestures to the couch. “Would you like to sit?”

“Sure,” she sighs. 

There's some kind of bargain hunting/property/auction show on, though Jane would be hard-pressed to describe what's going on on screen, because she can't stop herself from zoning out every couple of minutes. Thor lays a heavy arm around her shoulders, and one part of her wants to shrug it off, but the other just can't work up the energy.

-

There's a celebration on Asgard a few days later, something to do with Volstagg's kids or something – killing his first bilgesnipe or something like that – and Jane's invited. 

Seeing Asgard again is a hugely exciting prospect, but seeing the people _of_ Asgard? Not so much.

“Thor?” she calls from their bedroom, a couple of hours before they're due to get beamed up by Heimdall. That's her favourite part. “What should I wear?”

“Don't worry,” he calls back, and appears at the door a moment later. “Something will be provided.”

“Oh, I...” She looks back into the closet, where the dress she got on her last visit is hanging. “What about the dress I got last time?”

“That's not appropriate for a party like this,” Thor says with a smile, as if dress etiquette should be obvious.

“Right,” she mutters, and closes the closet door.

True to his word, the palace servants whisk Jane away when they arrive, get her dressed up and do her hair all fancy. They put shiny, glittery make up on her face and sweep her hair up into an up-do. She barely recognises herself.

“Feel like a princess yet?” Sif asks when Jane leaves the chambers. Apparently she has to be escorted around the place. For whose benefit, she's not sure. When she saw Odin briefly after they arrived, he fucking _smirked_ at her, so she doubts he's concerned about her stealing cutlery – he barely thinks she can string a sentence together, let alone carry out higher brain function.

Jane looks at Sif and frowns. She can't tell if Sif's being sarcastic or not, but then she smiles, and Jane guesses she's not. “I feel uncomfortable,” she says. The dress isn't constricting, Asgard fashion tends towards long and flowy, but long and flowy on her small frame feels cumbersome and unnecessarily fussy.

“Mm, this is easily my least favourite part,” Sif agrees, gesturing at her own dress and carefully pinned up hair. Now _she_ looks regal.

“I own, like, one dress,” Jane says.

Sif laughs, tipping her head back a little. “I own none, they're just given to me when I need them. They're not so bad though, they're easy to move in, at least.”

“Yeah, I just... don't like people looking at me because of that...” Jane murmurs, distracted for a moment by the opulent surroundings. It doesn't get old, that's for sure.

“That is something you're going to have to get over, Lady Foster,” Sif says quietly, and pushes open the doors of the hall.

The celebration is raucous, to say the least. Volstagg and company are singing songs at the tops of their lungs, Fandral is flirting with everything that moves, and there are numerous fights breaking out all over the place. The only person staying quiet is Hogun, and she kind of wants to go over and talk to him (or not talk and just sit in blessed silence), but every time she tries to get away from Thor and the others, she somehow ends up being herded back.

“So, Lady Jane!” Fandral announces at the top of his lungs. “I hear that you're rather smart for a mortal.”

Jane's smile feels frozen to her face. She can't even drink the alcohol, since it's Asgard strength and a few sips would give her alcohol poisoning. “I guess,” she murmurs.

“Fandral!” Sif shouts at him cheerfully. “Do you think it's a good idea to flirt with Thor's lady love?”

“His lady love, but not his lady wife!” Fandral calls back, then nudges Jane with his elbow. “Not yet, that is. Asgard eagerly awaits Thorsons!”

“Mm,” she hums.

She supposes Fandral's behaviour isn't that bad as the night wears on, because at least he speaks to her. Everyone else just talks over her head to Thor, as if she's a cute pet of some sort. She's a tiny mortal in a room full of giants.

It's hours and hours until the celebrations wind down enough for Jane to get Thor's attention back. Her eyes are hot and dry and her feet hurt and her ears are ringing from all the noise around them. To his credit, he doesn't complain when she tells him she wants to leave, and bids her friends farewell easily before walking her to their quarters for the night.

“I'm sorry, Jane, celebrations are rather... loud here,” he says, wrapping his arm around her.

“It's fine,” she mutters. “It was... fun. Fandral said he heard I was smart. For a mortal.”

Thor chuckles a little. “Ah, Fandral is not the most tactful. Don't worry, once everyone gets to know you, they'll all love you as much as I.”

“Yeah...” she murmurs, and turns the corner into their room.

-

Sex with Thor is a guaranteed orgasm every time. His beard rasps against her cheek, his breath hot against her ear, and the bed creaks and groans in rhythm with his thrusts.

God, she thinks as her orgasm builds fast, what if her _mom_ hears?

Her back arches as she comes, her toes curling over into the sheets. Thor groans in her ear for a long moment, leaning most of his weight on her, until she can feel herself sink into the mattress.

“Can't breathe, Thor,” she murmurs, pushing ineffectively at his shoulder.

“I'm sorry, my love,” he says, rolling off her. 

She squirms a little and sits up, stretching out her arms. He forgets about that every single time.

Thor's asleep within few minutes, having dispensed with the condom that he finds distasteful – apparently Asgard has much more advanced birth control techniques. It took her a while to convince him that they'd work, but space STDs seem like a good thing to avoid.

She lies beside him for a few hours before giving up on sleep for another night and getting out of bed. She pulls her pyjamas back on and heads for the kitchen to raid the fridge full of food that she didn't, and can't, pay for. 

Erik is in there, making himself a very involved looking sandwich.

“Hey,” she murmurs, trying her best not to surprise him. Not that she needed to worry, because he doesn't even register her presence at first, until she steps forward and touches his arm.

“Oh!” he says, looking up at her.

“Sorry...” she says, taking a step back again.

“No, no, don't...” He trails off for a moment, frowning down at the counter, then looks back at her. “I have to tell you something.”

She clears her throat and tries to look as casual as she can. It makes him worse if she gets tense, and she feels tense just about all the time right now. “Okay...”

“Mm,” he murmurs. “I'm going back to New York.”

“You... are?” she says.

He nods. “A friend's got me a job, and a place to stay, so...”

“Oh, okay. Well, I guess that's good, right?”

Erik smiles. “Well, I think your mother is getting rather tired of having me around.”

Jane shakes her head. “Oh no, she's...” Erik tips his head to one side and she snorts. “Okay, maybe you've got a point.”

Erik laughs and goes back to preparing his sandwich.

“So, when are you leaving?”

“Soon as possible,” he says. “I'm going to book the flight in a minute.”

“Wow, you're not hanging around,” she says.

“Why would I?”

“No reason, I guess,” she mutters, and goes to open the fridge.

Erik lifts his head and looks at the wall for a moment, before turning back to her. “It's Stark Industries.”

She pauses, hand on the door handle. “What's Stark Industries?” 

“The job.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh, wow, okay. Um, good luck with that...”

Erik smiles. “Thanks, I think I'll need it.”

-

She gets a few hours sleep in the morning, curled up under a blanket on the couch with the TV flickering in the background, but Darcy's thumping entrance at 8am wakes her after four hours.

“I love London!” Darcy says to herself in a loud whisper as she passes by the couch, not even noticing Jane, and goes into her room. Jane groans and throws the blanket off, swinging herself up. If she doesn't get some sleep soon, she's going to turn into a serious zombie. She pushes herself up, trying to shake the cobwebs from her head, when there's a knock at the door. 

She frowns and looks over at it as there's another knock.

“Over here!” a muffled voice calls, and she looks over her shoulder, at the balcony doors, where Sif is standing and waving at her. Jane narrows her eyes – this is her life now, alien-gods hanging out on her mom's balcony – and gets up.

“Hey...” she says, as she slides the door open. “Uh, how are you?”

“I am good, Dr Foster. Muspelheim, on the other hand, is not.”

“Muspelheim?” she repeats.

Sif peers into the apartment. “Yes. Things that shouldn't be on fire are, and things that should aren't. Is Thor awake?”

Jane sighs and steps back. “Come in, I'll get him.”

Thor bounds out of bed when Jane incoherently relates what Sif told her about Muscleheim or whatever it was. Jane follows slowly, and watches the two of them talk excitedly about war and sword fighting and stuff.

“We could really do with you in the fray, Thor,” Sif says, her glance flicking to Jane for a second. Thor's face lights up for a moment, before he frowns and looks at Jane too.

She shrugs. “Hey, you're the God of War, right?”

Thor grins. “Indeed!”

“What on Earth is... oh,” her mother's voice comes from the doorway. She's in her robe, and pulls it tighter around herself, eyeing the scene carefully.

“Mrs Foster, this is the Lady Sif,” Thor says, bowing his head slightly. “I believe I have told you about her.”

“Yes...” Mom says, stepping into the room and holding out her hand to Sif. Handshakes aren't a thing on Asgard, Jane discovered after Thor moved in, but Sif returns the gesture graciously and they figure it out eventually.

After the greetings are done, Thor rushes off to get dressed and retrieve Mjolnir and they say quick goodbyes, Thor promising he'll be back 'presently'. 

A dark little part of her says, 'really?'

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Mom says, as Sif and Thor depart in a burst of light that draws the neighbours across the road to their windows.

Jane blinks hard a couple of times and sighs. “I just haven't been sleeping well, that's all,” she says.

“You're sure?” Mom pushes, and Jane shuts her eyes for a moment. “Because I thought after Thor came back, you'd be a little happier than you seem to be...”

“I'm just tired, Mom,” she snaps, rubbing at her eyes.

Her mother's eyebrows go up, lips pursing together. “Okay. Then I guess I'll go have a shower.”

“Okay,” Jane says tightly, looking at the floor. Her mother sighs and leaves for the bathroom, shaking her head, and Jane stays standing there, in her tired haze, looking at the floor.

“Did something just happen?” Erik says, poking his head out of his bedroom.

Jane looks at him and tries to take a deep breath – _Sif and fires and some kind of heim or something_. She has no job, and no money, and now, again, no boyfriend.

Erik frowns at her when she doesn't respond and her chest starts to grow tight. She takes a strangled breath and clenches her fists.

“Jane?” Erik asks, leaving his bedroom to approach her. “Are you okay?”

She looks at him, then around at the room, her rumpled blanket on the couch, the general debris left behind by Thor. She feels hot all over. 

“Jane?” Erik repeats.

If she stays here, she's going to explode.

She looks back at him and wipes at her face. “Do you think there are any more jobs going at Stark?”


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy decides to stay behind – she's applying for a work permit and she's having fun running around London with Ian. Jane's mother graciously allows Darcy to keep staying with her, though Jane doesn't think that'll probably last very long. Mom is also under strict orders to tell Thor where Jane is when he returns.

If he returns...

Stark Industries pays for her flight, and Stark himself is giving both Erik and Jane a place to stay in his tower, and she only just manages to not cry with something like relief.

It's a long flight to New York and she sleeps fitfully in a cramped little seat with Erik snoring happily next to her and a kid kicking the back of her seat on and off for the entire flight.

There's a car waiting for them at JFK and by the time they're at the tower, she's completely loopy with tiredness. Erik looks up at the balcony area as the car pulls into the garage and makes a face.

“It occurs to me now that this might cause a relapse...”

“Hm,” Jane says, and starts trying to open her door.

“Jane, the car's still moving,” Erik murmurs.

She lets go of the handle and leans back. “Oh.”

When the car _does_ stop moving, the driver shows them over to an elevator that they ride to the seventieth floor with their bags. The door opens onto a very large and bright area that makes Jane's eyes hurt. There's a guy standing a couple of feet away who smiles when he sees them. He's not Stark, but he looks familiar...

“Bruce!” Erik says, and drops his bags, walking over to 'Bruce' to embrace him.

“Oh, okay, hi, Erik,” Bruce says, patting him on the back. “Should we, um, get your bags...?”

“Oh yeah, yes,” Erik murmurs, and lets him go. 

Bruce ducks around him and gets into the elevator with Jane, picking up their bags. She should tell him he doesn't have to, but she can't find the words. “Hey,” he says, nodding at her, “I'm Bruce.”

She looks at him and frowns, and he frowns back at her. The elevator door starts closing again and he reaches over to hold it open. “Do you wanna... come in?”

“Sure,” she says, following him out of the elevator.

“This place is incredible,” Erik murmurs, wandering around the living area.

“Yeah, Tony has... expensive taste. He told me to tell you that he's sorry he can't be here to welcome you.”

“No problem,” Erik murmurs, still looking around.

Bruce smiles a little, then looks back at Jane. “Hey, I hope you don't feel too uncomfortable. I know that... you hear a lot of things about me at Culver...”

“Culver?” she says.

“Yeah, you know, crazy PCP addicted researcher destroys laboratory... At least, I think that's what Culver's cover story was.”

She narrows her eyes. “Dr... Banner?”

“Yeah... Erik didn't tell you?”

She shakes her head slowly, and frowns. He still looks _really_ familiar...

Bruce tips his head to one side. “Dr Foster, are you okay?”

“Oh!” she says as it comes to her. “You TAed a class I took once.”

He pulls a face. “I did?”

“Yeah, uh... Elementary Particle Physics at Harvard. Like... 1998, I guess?”

“Uh...” He looks thoughtful for a moment, then grimaces. “Yeah, I did TA that class, that was one of the last TAing jobs I had. Sorry, I didn't recognise you.”

She shrugs. “It was a big lecture, you didn't even TA my section. And I didn't recognise you either, straight away, you were skinnier back then.”

Bruce blinks at her, and she cringes. “I mean, not that you're not... you know. It's just that you're older and... Not that I mean you're old or anything, I just... Hm. Maybe I'll stop talking.”

Bruce grins and laughs. “Don't worry about it, I know what you mean. I can show you to your room, if you want.”

She sighs. “Yeah, that's probably a good idea.”

“Erik?” Bruce calls.

Erik looks back from where he's browsing through books on one of many bookcases.

“Do you want me to show you where your room is?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Erik murmurs, and wanders back over to them.

“It's this way,” Bruce says, nodding down a hallway.

The hallways are just as impressive as the living room, and her new living quarters are even more impressive than _that_. Erik is across the hall from her, and she can hear his 'wow's from her room. Bruce chuckles, standing between the two doorways.

“At least someone's impressed with Tony,” he says.

“He won't tell Mr Stark that he's impressed,” Jane replies.

Bruce smiles. “Probably for the best. But uh, don't call him 'Mr Stark' to his face. He'll only start going on about how Mr Stark was his father.”

She nods and sways on the spot a little. Bruce's face softens. “Hey,” he murmurs, “maybe you should go get some sleep.”

She nods again, a little absently, and rubs at her face. “Yeah, I will, thanks.”

Bruce smiles at her again. “It's good to have you here, Dr Foster.”

“Jane,” she says, stifling a yawn.

Bruce starts yawning too and chuckles. “Bruce.”

“Bruce,” she repeats. “Night, Bruce.”

“Night,” he replies, and she wonders if he's smiling kind of funny at her or if she's just imagining it.

-

She gets six hours sleep. It's more than she's had in a while, but she almost cries when she looks at her phone and sees that it's only seven am. She tries in vain to get back to sleep for another hour, but that just makes her angrier, so she gives up and drags herself to the shower.

Her quarters come with a fully stocked open plan kitchen, so she makes herself some toast and drinks some fancy freshly squeezed orange juice, and tries to get herself going for the day ahead.

There's no map of the building anywhere in the apartment, so once she's dressed and reasonably presentable, with concealer smeared under her eyes to cover up the dark circles, (because this is honestly just getting _ridiculous_ now) she stands in her living room at a loss.

“May I help you, Dr Foster?” a crisp English voice asks out of absolutely nowhere.

She jumps about a foot in the air and raises her hands to... to she doesn't know what. She's never been a fighter before.

“I am sorry for startling you,” the voice comes again, “I am JARVIS, I run the tower.”

She curls her fingers into her palms and slowly drops her hands. “You're a-- where are you?”

“I am an artificial intelligence, Dr Foster. May I be of assistance?”

“Um...” She swallows heavily and glances around the room. “Uh, okay. Where do I... go? You know, for work?”

“Ah yes,” JARVIS says, “you are working with Doctor Banner on the fifty second floor. You cannot miss it.”

“Okay... thank you...” she murmurs, stuffing her phone in her pocket and heading to the door.

“You are welcome, Doctor. Please do not hesitate to ask me any further questions.”

“Thanks...” she murmurs again, and leaves the apartment.

JARVIS is right that she can't miss the lab once she gets to the fifty second floor, it takes up the entirety of the floor, it seems like. It takes her a couple of minutes to find Bruce, and when she does, he doesn't notice her right away because he's focused on a couple of guys moving equipment into place.

“Be careful with that,” he calls, “it's delicate. Don't bash it into the-- oh,” he trails off, as they dutifully bash it into a wall. “Great,” he mumbles.

“Is this a bad time?” she asks.

He blinks and turns to look at her. “Jane, hey. Sorry, I wasn't expecting you yet, people don't tend to get into the lab until ten.”

“Oh, I didn't know that,” she says, and Bruce pulls a face.

“Yeah, sorry, I probably should have let you know... How was your first night in the tower?”

She shrugs. “It was fine, although I got kind of a shock this morning when some British guy started talking to me from the ceiling.”

Bruce pulls a face again. “Yeah, wow, I should have told you about that too, sorry. Tony was supposed to be here, but he had 'last minute plans', so...”

“Don't worry, I got over it.”

“That's good,” Bruce says and smiles. “So, uh, you're going to be over here, near me,” he adds, moving towards an empty desk, mumbling a 'sorry' to one of the movers as he edges around him. Jane follows and bangs her shoulder into the mover when he doesn't get the hell out of her way. She turns back and glares at him, and Bruce looks a little like a deer caught in the headlights before she sniffs and focuses her attention back on him.

“Okay...” he says, and gestures to the empty desk. “This is... it.”

She nods. “So, what are we working on?”

“Kind of whatever you want to, Tony encourages independent research. Although, he is looking into renewable energy, so we try to work on that too.”

“Okay. I can probably do something with that...” She sure hopes so, anyway, because her motivation to pursue her own research has trickled away to nothing in the last couple of years.

“Yeah, Tony was pretty excited when I told him that you were looking for a job too.”

“Really?”

Bruce's eyebrows draw together as he smiles at her. “Yeah. You know you're kind of a superstar in fringe science, right?”

She looks down at the desk and digs her fingernails into the corner of it. “Not any more,” she mumbles.

She hears Bruce take a breath and feels him take a step towards her. “Are you okay, Jane?”

“I'm fine,” she says by rote, and looks up at him. He looks concerned, so she smiles and he sort of smiles back, though his brow is still all wrinkled up. “Anyway, the most important question is: what time is lunch break?”

-

Not much happens, the first couple of days – she settles in and figures out where everything is and how it all works, meets her co-workers (who are largely interns – paid, Bruce says, because Pepper doesn't believe in unpaid internships), and eventually meets Tony Stark himself. He bows and calls her 'Lady Jane', and she knows he's trying to be cute, but she can barely muster a chuckle.

Sitting close to Bruce, she starts to pick up on little patterns. The interns are pretty wary of him, talking in hushed voices and cleaning up spills before he's even noticed they've happened. If anyone makes a loud noise, everyone freezes and looks at Bruce, who frequently doesn't seem to even register anything. Bruce never raises his voice at anyone, though, and pretty much stays withdrawn from most of the lab's proceedings.

Every morning one of the interns, Jenny, brings Bruce a cup of herbal tea and puts it down carefully on his desk. Bruce always smiles and thanks her, and when she's gone he drinks it with a slightly pained expression on his face.

Erik only sporadically comes to the lab; in the first couple of weeks they're there, he comes in maybe four times. Bruce doesn't seem to mind, though.

Since Erik lives across the hall from her, she tries to keep him from retreating into his cave too often. Most of the time he ignores her knocks at the door and when he does let her in, he's distracted and flustered by any kind of questioning. She always leaves a few minutes later.

She still isn't getting much sleep and spends her nights tossing and turning and pacing her room. Two week after she arrived, after a phone call from her mom that confirms that there's still no sign of Thor, she falls asleep on the couch at midnight and startles awake at two, heart pounding and skin burning. She tears her t-shirt off and holds out her arms in front of her, but everything's normal except her thundering heart and the phantom sensations under her skin.

“God,” she mutters, and gets up to retrieve her t-shirt from across the room.

“Dr Foster?” JARVIS asks.

She stiffens and looks up. “Yes?”

“There is a communal entertainment area on the sixty fifth floor, if you would like a... change of pace.”

“Mm...” she hums, looking around the darkened living room. “Hell, why not?”

She puts a hoodie on over her t-shirt and fuzzy pyjama bottoms, and shoves her feet in a pair of slippers before leaving the apartment.

The 'entertainment area' is more like a somewhat miniature private movie theatre, and she's not sure why she even came down here. Watching a movie probably isn't going to make her feel much better right now. She's about to turn on her heel and leave when there are footsteps from the adjoining room and then Bruce is standing in the doorway in his pyjamas, holding a spoon in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other.

“Um, hi,” he says.

“Hi,” she says, and stares at him. He blinks back at her and she shakes herself. “Sorry, I couldn't sleep, but if you're using the room, I'll go...”

“You don't have to,” he says quickly, and looks at the tub in his hands. “It's strawberry. I can get some bowls?”

“Um...” She crosses her arms loosely over her chest and clears her throat. “Sure, okay.”

“Okay...” he says, eyes flickering over her. “I like your pyjama bottoms, by the way.”

She looks down at them, all fuzzy pink with spaceships, and snorts. “Thanks.”

They sit in silence on the couch for a few minutes, picking at their bowls of ice cream (it's good ice cream, probably super expensive and foreign) and glancing at each other.

“So, uh, you couldn't sleep either?” she asks finally.

“I never sleep well,” Bruce says.

“I used to, but apparently not any more.”

He leans his head back against the couch, mouth twisted a little. “Sorry.”

She shrugs. “It's okay, I'm getting used to it, I guess.”

He nods, still looking at her. He has sort of an apologetic face, she notices; she finds it oddly calming.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks.

He raises a shoulder. “Sure.”

“Why does Jenny bring you tea every morning even though you hate it?”

His eyebrows go up and he sits forward, chuckling. “You noticed that, huh? I think she's just trying to be nice.”

“Why don't you tell her you don't like tea?”

He shrugs. “I don't know, it seems kind of ungrateful. I think since I can't drink coffee, people think I like tea instead. She's trying to be thoughtful.”

“Why can't you drink coffee?”

He laughs. “Oh, well, you know, too much caffeine makes me kind of...” He raises his eyebrows and grins. “Angry.”

“Oh,” she says, and smiles. “So, what do you like?”

“Um... cocoa, I guess?”

She nods. “I'll have to keep that in mind next time I want to get on your good side.”

Bruce leans his head back against the couch again. “This _is_ my good side, Jane.”

She smiles back at him, and then sighs. The bowl of ice cream on her lap is starting to make her thighs go numb, but she doesn't bother moving it.

“Hey, tell me to mind my own business,” Bruce says slowly, “but... is everything okay? With Thor and stuff?”

She shifts around to face him, frowning, and he looks like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “You know about me and Thor?”

“Ye—es?” he says slowly, face tensing up. “Sorry, um, I shouldn't have asked, I'm not trying to pry.”

“No, it's-- it's fine,” she says, settling back down again. “We're, uh, I don't know. He left to go battle something a couple of weeks ago, and I haven't seen him since. And, I mean, I know he can't just phone me up, but I didn't hear from him for two years after we first met, so...”

“He didn't come see you after New York?”

She sets her jaw. “Nope.”

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs.

She shakes her head. “It's fine. I mean, I guess we'll figure it out.”

“Sure...” Bruce says, although he doesn't exactly sound sure.

Jane huffs and rubs her hands over her face. “Is there anything good on TV?”

-

Bruce is almost always hanging around the 'entertainment area' at night, she discovers. He's the only one who ever really uses it, he tells her, since Tony and Pepper are always coming and going and spend most of their time in their own penthouse anyway.

“Gotta catch up on all the movies I've missed,” he says, cradling a bowl of popcorn to his chest as he comes out of the kitchen.

“What're you watching?” she asks, loitering near the couch in her fuzzy pyjamas. She knows she looks washed out and run down, bags under her eyes and hair all sad and flat, and since Bruce is technically her supervisor, she probably shouldn't let him see her like this.

“ _Wall-E_ ,” he says, holding out the bowl to her.

“A heartbreaking work of art, sir,” JARVIS says, and Bruce cracks up, dropping down on the couch.

“You sticking around?” he asks her.

She wraps her arms around herself; it's past one am and she feels wrung out and lethargic but she's spent five hours trying to get to sleep tonight and Bruce is looking at her with his apologetic face and soft gaze. She shrugs and sits down.

“There's salt in this, right?” she says, peering at his bowl of popcorn.

“Yep.”

“Good, because I can't stand sweet popcorn.”

Bruce wrinkles up his nose. “It's an affront to mankind,” he says seriously.

“It _is_ ,” she says, and takes a handful.

It's nice talking to him, he doesn't ask many questions, but he listens when she talks and doesn't seem overly concerned about watching whatever movie they've got on. Sometimes he's the only person she talks to all day.

“So, where are you from?” she asks one night, when they're watching _Avatar_. Bruce doesn't look like he's enjoying it.

“Ohio,” he says.

“Oh yeah, what's it like there? I've never been.”

Bruce smirks. “Cornfields,” he says. “Just... cornfields. What about you, where are you from?”

“Well... I was born in London but I grew up mostly in Massachusetts and Virginia.”

Bruce tips his head to one side. “Are your parents British?”

“My mom is. They met when my dad was doing his PhD at Cambridge.”

“Fancy,” Bruce says, raising his eyebrows.

She snorts. “Says the super-genius in the room.”

Bruce looks away, back at the big blue aliens, and wrinkles his nose. “I'm not...”

“IQ of 195 says otherwise,” she says, half just to see if he'll blush, which he does – the tips of his ears go bright red.

He turns and looks at her with a slightly appalled expression. “Where did you even get that number?”

She shrugs. “I don't know, there was an article in the campus newspaper or something?” 

Actually she does know, because when she was sitting in a lecture hall of three hundred students in 1998, and Bruce was standing down in the front, looking nervous and talking to the professor, she had sort of a crush. So when the campus newspaper did a spotlight on star students and Physics grad student Bruce Banner was profiled, she read it with interest.

“Mm,” Bruce murmurs. “Well, I don't even know where they got that from. Anyway, IQs are meaningless.”

“Hey!” she exclaims, straightening up fast enough to jostle him. “I have an IQ of 196!”

Bruce smiles, wrinkling his nose up again. “Except when it's yours,” he amends.

“Thank you,” she says primly and settles back down.

Bruce snorts and looks at her, just looks at her for a moment, until she feels her cheeks redden.

“Um, so,” she says awkwardly, glancing away . “Um, how long did you live in Ohio for?”

“Oh,” Bruce says, and shifts around, glancing away for a moment as well, before looking back and smiling. “I left when I was... fifteen? After I graduated high school.”

“Where did you go?”

“I just...” He shrugs and smiles a little. “I just travelled around...”

She nods. There's a story there, fifteen and just 'travelling around'? But she figures he doesn't want to tell her or he'd have told her already. “And then you went to Harvard?”

“Yep,” he says. “And then Culver and then... I lived in Brazil for a while, and India after that.”

“Really? Wow, what's Brazil like? What part were you in?”

“Rio,” he says and laughs. “Imagine _me_ in Rio. I was, you know, staying off the grid, so... It's a great place, but I didn't do as much sightseeing as I could have...” He trails off for a moment, then smiles. “I worked in a bottling factory.”

“A bottling factory?”

“Yup. Ever had Pingo Doce?”

She shakes her head.

“Probably best, it's not very nice. And it's _bright green_. Anyway, I did that, and then some stuff happened and I ended up in India.”

“What did you do out there?”

“I worked as a doctor-- a medical doctor.”

“Oh, you've got an MD?”

He purses his mouth and shakes his head. “No, I just... read a lot of stuff. I treated mostly viral infections and broken bones, so...”

“Wow, you've really lived,” she says.

“You could call it that...” he murmurs, with a funny smile on his face. “But I've never been to Asgard, so I think you win.”

“Ugh,” she mutters, and leans back into the couch. “Let's not even get into that.”

Bruce glances at her and frowns a little, and she sighs and looks at her nails. She hasn't talked to anyone about her trip to Asgard except Darcy and everything seemed so shiny and happy then that they didn't even get into Odin or Frigga or mass funerals or part Jane played in it all. The part of her _stupidity_ played.

“It's just...” she adds, then pauses again – didn't she just tell him she didn't want to talk about it?

Bruce looks at her with his big, apologetic eyes and she starts up again. “It's just that... I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I feel so out of place on Asgard. I feel like... fucking Eliza Doolittle, or something... Sorry for swearing.”

Bruce smiles.

“And...” she continues, “I guess I just feel so hopelessly out of sync with everyone these days, especially... especially Thor. I used to...” She drags her hands through her hair. “I used to be different, you know. I didn't used to be quite this... anxious all the time.”

Bruce nods slowly. “I know how that feels,” he says softly.

“The Aether just...” She shakes her head and sighs. She had it for a _day_ , she's _fine_ , she didn't die, no one _she_ loved died.

“'Aether'?” Bruce repeats.

She blinks at him, dragged from her thoughts. “It was... dark energy, it... possessed me.”

His eyebrows draw together, face tensing up. “You were possessed?”

“I know it sounds crazy...”

He shakes his head. “It doesn't sound crazy,” he says softly. “I'm sorry that happened to you.”

She wraps her arms around herself. “It's okay. I didn't turn into Regan or anything.”

“I didn't think you had,” Bruce says, smiling slightly.

“Which isn't to say that I haven't projectile vomited once or twice,” she adds, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He chuckles and she smiles back, before looking up at the forgotten movie. “Let's watch something else.”

-

Bruce is an ice cream hog.

“Are you going to eat all of that?” she asks while they're watching _Live Free or Die Hard_ (Bruce doesn't like it).

“I was planning to, yeah,” he says around the spoon stuck in his mouth.

She narrows her eyes at him and leans over to take the tub of ice cream from him, but he holds it out of her reach. She makes another grab for it and Bruce holds it up even higher, straightening up from his hunched over position.

“Bruce!” she says, waving her hand at it, and he widens his eyes at her. They're both a little punchy from lack of sleep. “You think I've never played keep away before? I was a tiny nerd in the public school system.”

Bruce grins and raises his eyebrows. Well, if he wants to play it like that... She pulls her legs underneath herself and leans over him, stretching her arm out. He waves the tub around a little and pushes himself up a couple of inches. She wobbles a little and grabs hold of his opposite shoulder to steady herself, basically shoving her tits in his face, but since she doesn't have any tits and she's wearing a shapeless black t-shirt, she's not so worried about it.

“Jane, what are you doing?” Erik asks from the door, breaking Jane's concentration. She overbalances and falls into Bruce's chest with an 'oof!'. Bruce jolts and quickly puts the tub down as she scrambles to right herself.

“Just, um, settling a minor dispute like academics...” she says and sits back down on her side of the couch.

“Right...”

She clears her throat. “So... what are you doing down here?”

“I ran out of milk in my fridge...” he says, still eyeing the two of them suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

She nods at the screen. “Watching a movie.”

“Right...” Erik repeats.

“There's plenty of milk in the fridge,” she adds.

“Mm,” he responds and slopes off to the kitchen.

Bruce glances at her out of the corner of his eye and smiles. “I think we're in trouble.”

“You're going to be in trouble if you don't give me that ice cream,” she says.

Bruce grabs it again and holds it over his head for a moment before lowering his arms and handing it to her with a grin.

“You're a terrible person,” she says, digging her spoon into melty surface.

-

They start making a little progress on the sustainable energy project by week four. Tony has a bunch of old arc reactor parts sent over from storage in Malibu and Bruce slices the boxes open while Jane dons gloves and plays around with liquefying paladium. Burning things is fun.

Everything runs smoothly for a few minutes, until there's a clatter and thump loud enough that Jane feels the vibrations of it under her feet. Jane jumps, dropping the piece of palladium she had held with a pair of tongs, and looks around at the source of the sound.

“What ha-- oh God!” she exclaims, catching sight of blood curving its way down Bruce's forearm as he clutches his wrist. Blood is pouring out of a gash across his palm, and he's baring his teeth, sucking in shallow, growly breaths.

The interns are frozen, staring in turn at him and at each other, and she doesn't even have time to feel angry at them before she runs over, grabbing a roll of kitchen towel on the way. She unwinds a huge wad of them and grabs hold of his bloodied arm with her gloved hand, pressing the white towels to his wound. They immediately stain bright red and she grimaces.

“Raise your arm,” she says, and tries to do just that, but Bruce is stiff as a board, breathing hard and staring at her with wide eyes. She cups her palm around his elbow and forcibly pushes his arm up, while keeping the kitchen towels pressed to the wound with her other hand, useless as they are. His blood is dripping onto her gloves and staining the pushed back sleeve of his shirt.

“Come on,” she murmurs, tugging him towards the sink. “Let's see how bad this is.”

He doesn't seem to want to come with her, but she manages to convince him to allow himself to be pulled over to the lab's sinks. She turns the water on, smearing his blood on the handle, and pushes his hand underneath the spray. He tenses up even more, if it's possible, standing utterly straight-backed beside her, hardly breathing at all, that she can tell. If he keeps going like that, he's going to make himself faint.

She gently prods at his palm, feeling out the edges of the cut. It feels deep, and the box and bloodied box cutter on the floor would seem to back up her fears.

“You're going to need stitches,” she says, wondering if he might have damaged some of his tendons as well.

Bruce doesn't make a sound, just stares at her with wide eyes again. Must be going into shock.

She turns around and glares at the still unmoving interns. “Can someone at least call 911?” she snaps. “And get me the first aid kit!”

“No,” Bruce says roughly. “Get a Stark medic.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them squeaks and runs off.

Jenny brings the first aid kit over and puts down on the counter, then moves back. Scared of a little blood, Jesus Christ. Jane lets go of his hand and starts to peel off her gloves to open the kit.

“No,” Bruce says, quietly but firmly. “Keep the gloves on.”

She looks back at him for a moment, but his expression is absolutely serious. She turns to Jenny instead. “Get cotton wool and gauze out,” she says and, when Jenny doesn't move, adds, “now!”

“Sorry,” Jenny murmurs, and gets the items out, handing them over carefully to Jane.

“Don't worry,” Jane says to Bruce softly, as she presses the cotton wool to the wound and begins to wind gauze tightly around it. “My mom's a nurse.” 

“Mm,” he hums. She pulls the gauze as tight as she can, wrapping it three times around his wrist to slow down the blood flow. Her quick bandage job is already turning red.

“Medics will be here in a couple of minutes!” the intern from before calls.

She turns and glares at him, then looks back at Bruce. “How about you sit down?”

“Mm,” he responds again, which she takes as consent. She shuts off the water and curves an arm around his back, leading him over to a chair. He stumbles a couple of times, but she gets him there without any major spills, and sits him down.

“Arm up,” she reminds him, and he does as he's told, staring up at her as she standing beside him.

“You've got my blood on your t-shirt...” he mumbles.

She looks down and sure enough there are little spots of blood staining her crappy, worn out grey t-shirt. “Eh, it's fine. It's not like I'm scared of a little blood.” Unlike some others she could mention...

Bruce looks up at her with worried eyes, but before she can say anything, Stark medics rush in and whisk Bruce away. Jane offers to go with him, but he shakes his head and leaves with the medics, a print of her hand in his blood on the back of his shirt, and she's left with the interns, who she can barely look at.

“Perhaps you would like to go wash up while the laboratory is being cleaned, Dr Foster,” JARVIS says.

“Sure,” she says coldly, peels her gloves off, and leaves without a backward glance.

-

She goes down to the entertainment room in the evening because it's becoming a routine, enough of one that she feels weird staying in her room past midnight. She hasn't even tried going to sleep, she's just adjusting to getting a few hours sleep in the early hours of the morning.

She doesn't expect Bruce to be down there, though; she expects that he'll have got the good painkillers and be passed out in his bedroom, but when she gets into the room, she can hear him muttering to himself in the kitchen annex.

“Fucking... Jesus Christ... Ah!”

“Bruce?” she calls, poking her head around the doorway. Bruce is trying to pour milk from a large jug into a cup, cradling his bandaged left hand to his chest.

He turns to the door and she's struck by how tired he looks. He has dark smudges under his eyes and tense lines at the corners. “Hey,” he murmurs.

“Hey...” she says. “Are you okay?”

“Ugh,” he replies.

She nods and goes over to him. “Gimme that.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, handing it over.

“What are you trying to make?” she asks, pouring the milk for him.

“Hot chocolate,” he says, looking slightly embarrassed.

She smiles. “I make a great hot chocolate,” she says. “Go sit down.”

He looks at her for a moment, eyebrows pulled together, then slopes off to sit down at the counter. She nods approvingly and opens up a cupboard to get the cocoa powder.

“So, how's the hand?” she asks.

“Still attached,” he says, and she rolls her eyes. “I didn't hit anything important,” he adds.

“That's good,” she says, glancing at him as she pours the milk into a pan and sets it to a low heat. He looks, frankly, like he's about to slide off his seat and pass out. “Look, I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but do you think that maybe you should get some sleep?”

“I tried,” he mumbles, “but it hurts too much to sleep at the moment.”

“Didn't they give you painkillers?”

“They did, but the painkillers didn't really do much...” He sighs. “I have a high tolerance for medication.”

“That sucks.”

“Yes, it does,” he says, and rests his forehead on the counter.

He stays like that until she's done with the hot chocolate and sets it down in front of him, at which point he smells the chocolate and lifts his head.

“Thanks,” he says softly, and takes a sip. “Wow, this is good.”

“Told you,” she says. “Come on, let's go sit on the couch.”

He follows her into the entertainment room, clutching the mug with his good hand, and sits down carefully on the couch.

“Oh,” he sighs, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “That's better.”

She smiles at him, though he still has his eyes closed, and looks at the screen. “What movie do you want to watch?”

“Mm...” He cracks an eye open and glances at her. “Something light.”

“So not _Evil Dead II_ , then?”

He just frowns at her.

“Because he cuts his hand off?”

His frown turns into a mock glare. “Very funny.”

They end up watching _Megamind_ , though Bruce keeps dozing off, jostling his hand, waking up and hissing with pain every fifteen minutes or so. She'd tell him to go to bed, but she figures he'd just dig his heels in even more.

They're about halfway through when Tony walks by and sticks his head in. “Hey... you guys,” he says, glancing between the two of them, as Bruce startles awake again.

“Hi,” Jane says and Bruce mumbles something similar.

Tony looks at them with a vaguely suspicious expression on his face. “You doing okay, Bruce? I hear you took extreme measures to get off work early today. Well, yesterday now.”

“I'm okay,” Bruce says softly. “I missed the tendons.”

“Good. You gonna submit an insurance claim?”

Bruce shakes his head. “Don't worry, I won't do anything like that.”

“No, I think you should!” Tony says.

“You want me to claim against your own company? Why?”

Tony shrugs. “I'm not the one who has to pay out, and everyone knows the insurance companies are pure evil so...”

“Well, I'm okay,” Bruce says. “I've got food and shelter and the medical care was free, so I'll just leave it.”

“Mm,” Tony hums, pursing his lips. “Well, it's up to you.”

“Yes, it is,” Bruce says firmly and looks back at the screen.

Tony pulls a face at him and looks at Jane. “So, how's it going in the lab, Foster? I guess I haven't been doing my bossly duties by you recently.”

“It's been fine. A little bloody, but fine.”

Tony grins. “Good, I'm glad we haven't scared you off.”

She laughs. “You guys are like the least scary guys I've ever met.”

Bruce snorts but doesn't say anything and Tony wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Well...” he says, “I guess I'll leave you two to your movie. Don't stay up too late, you've got school in the morning.”

“Night, Tony,” Bruce says, waving vaguely over his head. Tony pulls another face and walks out.

“You're pretty good friends with Tony, huh?” she asks, turning back to Bruce.

Bruce leans his head against the couch. “For my many sins...” he mutters with a slight smile.

Twenty minutes later he's out cold, snoring softly, head tipped back, mouth open. She laughs a little and shuts off the movie, then carefully gets up off the couch. Bruce shifts a little, but doesn't wake, and she looks at him for a moment. He doesn't exactly look peaceful, but he does look adorably undignified. She pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and tugs it around him, then after a moment's hesitation leans over and kisses his cheek.

He makes a 'hm' sound in his sleep and sighs. Her cheeks start to heat up and she high tails it out of there before he can wake up.


	3. Chapter 3

“Really?” she says the next day, when she comes down to the lab and finds Bruce already there, his arm in a sling.

“195!” he calls as he walks across the room.

Work's a bit harder with Bruce one-handed, but not by much; he pretty much adjusts to doing everything that way. Including typing, which he can do surprisingly fast with just his right hand.

“You must have had _a lot_ of experience typing one-handed,” Tony comments on one of his visits, as Bruce is typing up his findings on his latest experiment.

“Mm-hm,” Bruce hums, and glances at Jane out of the corner of his eye.

“That was a masturbation joke, by the way,” Tony adds.

“Yes, Tony,” Bruce says flatly, and Jane starts to snigger. “I know how penises work.”

Jane cracks up and buries her face in her hands, and when she looks back up, Tony is gone and Bruce makes a jerking off gesture with his good hand for a second before blushing and going back to staring intently at his screen.

-

She has reasonably regular contact with Darcy – a couple of emails a week and Skyping every other. She talks more to Darcy than she does her mom, which she tells herself is just down to scheduling issues.

“So, how's London?” Jane asks on one of their calls. She's been in New York a month with no word from Thor.

“It is _awesome_. Awesome. I've seen, like, seven plays at the Globe and I saw a musical in the West End and I even had high tea last week! I feel so cultured!” The video lags for a moment, leaving a freeze frame of Darcy's smiling face.

“That's great, Darce,” she says, and maybe she sounds a little lacklustre, because Darcy pulls a face.

“And how are you doing out there in Science-land? Are you saving the environment yet?” Darcy asks.

Jane shrugs. “It's going fine. I don't know that we've helped the environment yet, but that's the idea...”

“Well, I am definitely _not_ helping the environment, so you've got one up on me there,” Darcy says. “So, have you been sleeping better?”

“Better?”

Darcy's eye roll arrives on a delay, which just makes it look even more long-suffering. “Come on, I'm self-absorbed, not unobservant. I saw you watching _Deal or No Deal_ at four am, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't willingly do that.”

Jane sighs. “You're such a know-it-all sometimes.”

“Pot, kettle, _please_ , Dr Foster.”

“But I'm not obnoxious with it,” Jane says.

Darcy cackles with laughter. “Man, _that's_ a good one.”

Jane screws up her face and shakes her head. Darcy sticks her tongue out and Jane laughs, but has nothing else to add, so they both fall silent for a minute.

“Oh,” Jane says after a while. “My... boss... supervisor... whatever, cut his hand open with a box cutter a couple of days ago.”

“A box cutter? Man, that's pretty hardcore. Who is this guy?”

“He's a nuclear physicist. Bruce Banner.”

“Oh, hang on, I'm gonna google him,” Darcy says, and a couple of seconds later she squints and leans closer to the screen.

“Put your glasses on,” Jane says.

Darcy clicks her tongue, but puts her glasses on anyway. “Oh, hey, he's very... fluffy looking. I like that. What's he like?”

“He's a nice guy. We... watch movies together sometimes.” No need to tell Darcy how often they've been doing that. Darcy would only get on her case some more about not sleeping.

Darcy nods. “He lives in the tower as well?”

“Yeah, he's a friend of Tony.”

“Wow,” Darcy says. “You always end up in the coolest situations.”

“That's one way of putting it...”

-

A couple of weeks after his accident, he doesn't need the sling any more and he can use his left hand for light tasks, though it's still bandaged up. It's eleven thirty am and he's slowly – very slowly – sipping on the tea Jenny delivered to him ten minutes ago, occasionally glancing over at Jane and smiling ruefully. She's about to get up and ask him if he wants to go get lunch, since nothing much is happening in the lab.

And then an alarm goes off over their heads and the interns scatter.

“What the...” Jane murmurs, as Bruce jumps up from his desk. “Fire?”

“Avengers,” he says.

“Avengers?” she repeats.

“Bruce?” Erik calls from across the room.

“Sir,” JARVIS pipes up in quick succession, “your presence is requested on the penthouse balcony.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, running his fingers through his hair. “Are there pants up there? I like these ones...”

“Mr Stark has everything prepared for you.”

Bruce nods and starts heading to the door. Jane hurries after him.

“Hey, where are you going?” she asks.

“Up to the penthouse,” he says. He sighs and grimaces at her. “Duty calls and all.”

She frowns. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Dunno yet. I guess they need my 'special talent', though.”

“Physics?”

It's Bruce's turn to frown this time. “Destroying things...” He frowns deepens as she stares back uncomprehendingly. “Jane,” he murmurs, reaching out to touch her arm, then stopping himself. “Jane, I'm... you don't... I'm the Hulk.”

She just blinks at him.

“Erik, didn't you...” Bruce looks around her, at Erik. “Didn't you tell her?”

“Oh,” Erik says, as she looks at him over her shoulder. “Maybe... not?”

She turns back to Bruce. He's so small and slight, how could he be the _Hulk_?

He looks pained as he stares back at her. “I have to...” He gestures vaguely at the ceiling, the alarm still blaring at them. “I have to go. I, uh... we'll talk later?”

“Okay,” she says quietly, and Bruce bites his lip for a moment, then turns and runs to the elevator.

The rest of the work day is a bust, because the tower is on lock down and everyone crowds around the TV to watch Iron Man and Captain America and... Bruce fighting some kind of terrorist group that's holding workers at a Brooklyn shipyard hostage. The interns gather around and talk in hushed voices and Jane realises that they _all_ knew about Bruce. That's why they're skittish around him and careful to keep quiet all the time. The cut hand, 'living off the grid', all Bruce's little sarcastic comments...

Man, she's an idiot.

She purposefully doesn't watch the news – she's seen enough superheroes getting beaten up live on TV to last a lifetime. Instead, she pours away Bruce's cold tea and tidies up his desk, then moves to her own.

“Jane,” Erik says, as she orders her papers by size. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It... slipped my mind.”

She shrugs. “It's fine. You had other things to think about.”

“Mm,” he hums, smiling ruefully. “I did that.”

There's a roar from the TV, and she catches part of the newsreader's report: “ _...have opened fire on Hulk. Initial reports have identified the group as HYDRA..._ ”

“I'm going to go and...” She glances at the TV and sighs. “I'll see you later.”

“Okay...” Erik murmurs as she leaves the room.

-

She spends most of the day in her room, reading the few books she brought with her and surfing the internet. Darcy messages her about what's going on in Brooklyn, and Jane almost tells her about her new found information on Bruce, but then she wonders if S.H.I.E.L.D. is monitoring her internet – or if anyone else is – and decides against it. Anyway, it's Bruce's personal business, he might not want her telling everyone. Unless everyone already knows and she's just the idiot who didn't catch on.

In the late afternoon, she doses off on the couch for a couple of hours, but wakes up feeling dissatisfied and on edge.

“Dr Foster,” JARVIS says as she rubs sleep from her eyes. “I thought you would like to know, Mr Stark and Dr Banner have returned home safely.”

“Oh,” she says, and wipes her palm over her mouth. “Where is... where are they?”

“Mr Stark is in his penthouse with Ms. Potts, Dr Banner is resting in his bedroom.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs, and picks her laptop up off the floor.

Every news site is reporting about the fight at the shipyard and it seems like Hulk was the one who delivered the final blow to HYDRA. She watches part of a video of the footage on a news site, transfixed by... Hulk. He's so huge and powerful and _terrifying_ , and it had honestly never even occurred to her before that the Hulk was a person too. He was just a thing, a scientific oddity, not a person who's sweet and gentle and... small. She skims through a few articles until she's sure that no one got badly hurt, then closes her laptop and heads down to the entertainment room.

She doesn't really expect to see Bruce, especially after JARVIS's confirmation that he's actually sleeping, but she still kind of... hopes. Hulk might have seemed okay after the fight – she can't imagine anything that would touch him – but who knows how the transformation process affects _Bruce_.

Well, except him, she imagines. He probably knows how to handle everything. He doesn't need her trying to fuss over him.

She watches a couple of movies on her own, barely paying attention, until it's past eleven and she's still alone.

“JARVIS?” she calls tentatively.

“Yes, Dr Foster?”

“Is Dr Banner still asleep?”

“Yes, Dr Foster.”

She nods to herself and sighs. She should really just try to get some sleep instead of hanging around waiting for... something. She's capable of sleeping alone in her own bed, she's not a child.

“Dr Foster,” JARVIS says, “if you would like to check on Dr Banner, I can direct you to his suite.”

“Oh, um...” She rakes her fingers through her hair and looks up at the ceiling. “Do you think I should check on him?”

“Dr Banner has been alone for several hours. It may be prudent to see how he is.”

“Oh... kay,” she says, pushing herself up.

She follows JARVIS's directions to Bruce's suite, which is on the floor above hers, and knocks on the door.

No answer.

She looks around the empty hallway for a moment then takes a breath and knocks again. Still nothing.

“Bruce?” she calls through the door. “Bruce, are you okay?”

She puts her ear to the door and hears the slightest movement coming from inside. She knocks one more time and gets an incoherent response back, then steps away from the door as she hears him approach it. A quiver of anxiety runs through her as she hears him getting closer, though she doesn't know what she's nervous about. The handle turns slowly and she tries to arrange herself to not look too strange, as if she hasn't just been listening at the door like some kind of stalker.

She feels a rush of... relief when she looks at Bruce, the nervous knot in her stomach unravelling. Bruce looks like he's been hit by a _truck_. “Ja--” He clears his throat and tries again, leaning heavily against the door frame. “Jane?”

“Oh, I-- I just wanted to see how you were?” she says uncertainly.

“Oh,” he says, and smiles, eyelids drooping. “I'm okay...”

“That's good...” she says, and bites her lip.

He sighs and leans his head against the door frame. “D'you wanna come in?” he asks, words starting to slur together.

“Um... Sure?”

Bruce smiles vaguely and steps back from the door, stumbling a little on his way. She follows him quickly, reaching out to grab his arm and steady him.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, still smiling vaguely as she gets her first look around his suite. 

It's a mess, books and clothes and bits of paper everywhere, and a tangle of crumpled blankets on the couch. 

“Were you sleeping on your couch?” she asks.

“Hm?” Bruce murmurs.

She looks back at him and his eyes are kind of glazed over. She shakes his arm a little and he kind of jolts back to himself. “Huh? Yeah,” he mumbles.

“I think you need to get some sleep in a proper bed.”

“'m fine,” he insists, and sways a little. She reaches out and steadies him. 

“Jane, Jane,” he continues, weakly clutching at her arm. “'m sorry I didn't tell, should've... always lying...” He's sliding rapidly back into incoherence, so she takes him by the shoulders, turning him towards his bedroom. He falls silent, warm and pliant under her hands, and it's easy to push him towards his bed.

She pulls back the hastily made covers and turns Bruce back to face her, then pushes him down.

“I'm going to take your shoes off,” she says, kneeling down at his legs hanging over the edge of the bed.

“Okay,” Bruce sing-songs and the bed bounces as he flops back onto the mattress.

She smiles to herself and slips the sneakers off his feet. His toes (which are filthy, it looks like he's been walking around barefoot) twitch, and she laughs a little.

“There you go,” she says, and gets soft snoring as a reply. “Okay...”

She stands up and takes hold of his legs, swinging them onto the bed. He doesn't so much as stir. She smiles again and leans over to pull the covers over him. His left arm is thrown out across the bed, palm up and she can't help but notice that his cut is gone. Not just better, but completely healed, like it was never there.

“Huh,” she mutters.

Bruce huffs and blows out a breath.

“Good night, Bruce,” she says.

-

He isn't in the lab the next day, and JARVIS quietly informs her that he's still recuperating, so she's left alone with Erik and the interns for most of the day. Erik is absorbed in his work – whatever that may be, he's a lot more secretive these days – but the interns spend a good portion of the day sneaking glances at her and then at each other. By lunch she retreats to her desk and ignores them.

She finishes up her work late into the afternoon and heads back to her suite to have a shower, and doesn't hear the knocking at her door until she's got conditioner all over her hair.

“Just a minute!” she yells from around the shower curtain. She scrubs her hair clean, jumps out, wraps herself in a robe, and runs out to the living room to open the door.

“Hey,” Bruce says when she pulls the door open, then blinks. “Oh... Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you...”

“It's fine.” Water drips from her hair down the back of her robe and she shivers. “Um, come in?”

“Thanks.”

She lets him pass by, then closes the door behind him. “Uh, I'm just gonna...” She points to the bathroom and Bruce waves a hand.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, um. I'll wait out here.”

In the bathroom she dries herself off quickly, scrapes her wet hair back from her face with a comb, and dresses in her nicest sweats. It's not like Bruce hasn't seen them before. A few minutes later she steps back out to find Bruce still standing awkwardly near the front door.

“Hey, sit down,” she says, gesturing to her couch.

“Thanks,” he says, but still waits for her to go over there first.

“So,” she says, settling down across from him. Her couch is a lot smaller than the one in the entertainment room.

“I thought we should talk,” he says.

“Okay.”

He nods. “Okay. Uh, were you in my bedroom last night?”

She feels her cheeks begin to flush. “Yeah, I came to see how you were and you'd been sleeping on the couch so I made you get into bed.”

“Yeah, I think I just passed out where I dropped... Um. Did you take my shoes off too?”

“I did... You were kind of loopy.”

He takes a deep breath and smiles. “Hormone rush and exhaustion,” he says, with a slight shrug. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“No problem.”

He nods again, a little unfocused, then snaps his gaze back to her. “I'm really sorry, Jane.”

“Why? Your feet weren't that dirty.”

He snorts without much humour and starts picking at his fingernails. “For, um, for not telling you about Hulk.”

“Well, you thought I already knew, right?”

“I did, but... I should have made sure. I thought Erik or... The interns had to sign waivers, so I assumed you did too, and... I guess I just thought you weren't scared of me, somehow.”

“I'm not scared of you.”

He looks like he doesn't believe her, but lets it pass. “You didn't consent to work under these conditions, though, did you?”

She shrugs. “I've worked worse places.”

He snorts and looks at his hands for a couple of seconds before raising his head again. “So, what did you think when... I don't know, when I cut my hand?”

“I thought the interns were dicks for not helping you and then I thought that maybe you had some kind of blood disease--”

“Technically I do,” he says with a bitter smile.

“Right. Well, then I thought the interns were even bigger dicks. I'm still not totally convinced that they're not, you know.”

“They're just being careful.”

She shrugs. “They treat you like you're a landmine or something. It's rude and it's unprofessional.”

“I am a landmine.”

She scowls at him and he smiles a little. “You are not a landmine, you're a human being.”

“From time to time,” he murmurs, but ploughs on before she can address that. “What about the stuff I told you? About avoiding the authorities and stuff?”

“You didn't say you were 'avoiding the authorities', you said you lived off the grid. I just thought you were some kind of conspiracy nut. That would have seemed weird a few years ago, but it doesn't even register any more. I never thought about the Hulk being a person before...”

He nods slowly. “I just really thought you knew...”

“Okay,” she says, holding up a hand, “you don't need to rub it in, I feel stupid enough already.”

He ducks his head and laughs. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that...”

She smiles. “What about your hand? It's all healed up.”

“Oh yeah,” he says, lifting his hand and looking at it. “The... process heals open wounds – it's like a concentrated shot of super soldier serum. Doesn't do anything for scars, though.”

“Wow, that's really incredible,” she says, and when he doesn't really react to that, she pokes him in the knee. “So, I guess you know my errant... whatever, huh?”

“Thor? Yeah. I punched him once. Well, Hulk did.”

“ _Really_?”

“Yeah, Hulk doesn't like either of them. The other one... Loki.”

“Well, he's dead now.”

“Hulk's glad.”

“So's Erik.”

Bruce grins at her. “This is a nice conversation.”

She drops her hands to her knees and grins back. “It is, isn't it? Do you want to go watch a movie?”

It's only when they're in the elevator that a thought occurs to her. “ _That's_ why you can't drink coffee!” she exclaims.

Bruce starts laughing really hard.

-

Predictably, Jane asks him a ton of questions over the next couple of days. She'd stop (well, she likes to _think_ she would) if he seemed uncomfortable with it, but every time she opens her mouth to ask a question, he just turns to her expectantly, with a slight smile on his face.

“So, can you have sex?” she says suddenly one night, when it's just the two of them left in the lab. Thank _God_.

Bruce blinks hard and Jane cringes. “Um, I—I didn't mean for that to sound so... Sorry.”

He smiles and stops typing. “It's fine. Uh... I can, I think, but I haven't tried. Haven't had anyone to try with in a while.”

“What about, uh...” She can feel herself go crimson but she's got herself into this mess now, so she may as well finish it. “Solo?”

“You're as bad as Tony,” he says, laughing. “Yeah, I... do that.”

“Okay, good,” she mutters, and Bruce pulls a silly face at her. She slaps her hand over her mouth and giggles. “I didn't mean it like...”

“Hey, I'm pretty happy about it too...” he murmurs.

“Okay,” she says, and clears her throat, swallowing down the last of her laughter. “Okay, let's... Can I ask you a serious question?”

“Sure.”

“Do you uh...Can you feel Hulk when you're not... him?”

Bruce frowns for a moment, then turns to face her. “Yes and no. I _feel_ like I feel different, but...” He narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “I've always been different. I didn't have a very good childhood and... I've always been unstable, I guess. A therapist told me once that I had 'trouble managing my emotions' long before Hulk happened. So I feel like I can sense Hulk lurking in my head, but maybe it's all me, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. I...” She runs her fingers through her hair and glances at him. He looks back at her steadily. “I told you about the Aether, right?”

“The...” He gestures vaguely at his chest and she nods. “Yeah, you did.”

“It was energy – dark energy inside of me – and it... defended itself. If someone tried to attack me, it just... exploded out of me. It wasn't there very long, but... I remember how it felt. Inside. That's the reward I get for trying to find Thor.”

“I'm sorry,” Bruce says quietly.

“And the thing is,” she continues, dragging her other hand through her hair. “The thing is that I'd given up. After New York, I thought what was the point, Thor didn't want to see me, I was just some mortal... _goat_.”

“Goat?” Bruce repeats.

“Something his father called me. I'd blown though all my savings, S.H.I.E.L.D. said they'd fund me but they didn't, I'd made myself a laughing stock in academic circles, I got fired from Culver for not doing the work I was supposed to do... And it turned out to be for nothing, so I cut my losses. But then he came back, and I got possessed by some otherworldly force and he gave up his throne for me, but... I'm still not happy.”

“I'm sorry,” Bruce says a second time.

“It's okay,” she says. “It's just nice to say it out loud.”

Bruce rests his fingers against her knee for a moment and nods. “Yeah... I get that.”


	4. Chapter 4

Tony instils a sense of terror among the interns every time he visits the lab, and the next day is no different. Jane and Bruce are sitting at his desk in the late afternoon eating takeout, Erik has characteristically disappeared, and the interns are working on refining the arc reactor for citywide usage.

“Chinese without me? I'm hurt,” he says. He got injured on the shipyard attack, not badly but enough to leave behind faint bruising around his eye and a healing cut on his lip.

Bruce sighs and pushes his half eaten carton across the desk to Tony. “I was full anyway,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

Tony snatches it up and drags a chair over, straddling it backwards. “Interns!” he yells, making several of them jump. “Work faster!”

“Don't be mean,” Bruce says.

Tony stuffs noodles into his mouth and shrugs.

“Ugh, okay,” Bruce mutters.

Tony smirks. “So, how's it going? Has world domination happened yet?”

“That's tomorrow,” Jane says.

Tony grins and swipes Bruce's bottle of water. “Always good to have goals,” he says, and drains about half the bottle before pushing it back over to Bruce.

“Keep it,” Bruce says, flicking his gaze to her. She smiles back.

“Sir,” JARVIS announces, “there is a Mr... Thor requesting Dr Foster's presence.”

Jane's stomach drops and her noodles suddenly seem entirely unappetising. She can feel both Bruce and Tony staring at her, but can't quite look up from her carton.

“Send him up,” Tony says and jumps up from his seat. “Well, this day just got about ten times more interesting.”

“Mm-hm,” Jane murmurs.

Bruce brushes his fingers against her arm. “You okay?” he asks quietly, quiet enough that Tony doesn't hear it over his rambling.

She swallows. “Sure...”

“Tony!” Thor's voice echoes from the hallway outside the lab. God, he got here fast, doesn't she get any time to collect herself first? “It is good to see you, my friend.”

“Probably better to see her, though, right?” Tony says, pointing in her direction as Thor enters the room. She only just has time to get up from her seat before Thor sweeps her into his arms.

“Hey,” she says weakly.

“I am sorry for my extended absence, Jane,” he rumbles, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “I thought the worst of the troubles in the realms were over, but there were riots in Muspelheim and then the frost giants... But I am home now.” He loosens his grip on her a little and bends to kiss her. She doesn't really kiss back. “I see that you have found yourself a new home while I was gone, however.”

“Yeah,” she mutters.

Bruce is looking at her with his stupid apologetic face as Thor greets him for the first time. He looks concerned, like he's worried she might do something, but what can she do? A few months ago, she might have exploded, literally exploded and wiped out the whole lab; a year ago she probably would have cried, but now she's just inert, while people talk around her but not to her.

“What the fuck,” she says under her breath. Bruce looks at her with big eyes.

“It is a good thing that Darcy was home when I arrived,” Thor is saying, squeezing her a little, “though not entirely dressed...”

“Two and a half months,” Jane says quietly. Bruce's mouth purses up.

“Sorry?” Thor says, looking down at her. 

“You were gone two and a half _fucking_ months,” she repeats, and shoves him away.

Thor's brow crinkles up. “Jane...”

“But I guess that's nothing compared to two years, huh?” She steps away from him, holding up her hands. Bruce bites his lips and grimaces. “Oh, but I shouldn't misrepresent,” she continues, waving her hands, “you came back, you just didn't come to see _me_. Why would you?” She throws her hands in the air, viscerally enjoying the pained look on Thor's face. “I'm just a _goat_.”

“Okay, Foster, maybe we're all getting a bit emotional...” Tony says, and Bruce glances at him sharply.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Tony,” she snaps.

“Maybe we should talk about this in private,” Thor says, looking down at her like she's nuts. Maybe she is.

“Maybe we shouldn't,” she says, and tips her chin up. “Maybe we just shouldn't talk at all.”

“Jane...” Thor murmurs, and reaches out to touch her arm. 

She wrenches it away and step back from him. “No! I just--” She spreads her hands in front of herself again, as if it could ward away all the panic building around her and inside of her. “I just-- after everything that happened. I just-- can't be with you any more, I can't do this any more.”

Tears prickle at her eyes and she grits her teeth and backs up to the door, ignoring Thor's calls, then blindly bolts from the room and runs out into the corridor. She takes a couple of right turns and ends up... somewhere, on part of the floor she's never been before. She doesn't want to stop, though she has no idea where to go, but her vision is getting blurry and her lungs are burning with the effort of not crying or screaming or something similar. She almost misses the Aether, at least then something would _happen_.

There are footsteps behind her within moments and something crazy lets loose in her chest, at the prospect of more platitudes and apologies from Thor.

“Hey...” Bruce says gently. She swallows heavily and turns around; his hands raised slightly like she's a frightened animal. “Are you...” He trails off and grimaces.

She wipes the heels of her hands across her eyes. “I'm not upset,” she says, “I'm _angry_.”

“I know,” he says quietly and takes a step towards her. 

She wraps her arms around herself and shies back. Bruce drops his gaze for a moment.

“I can't go back in there,” she says sharply. “God, it's just one thing after another. I lost everything, I _gave up everything_ , my money, my research, my dignity! I'm supposed love him but God, all I think when I look at him is how much I fucked up my life!”

Bruce nods slowly, sympathy written all over his face, and that just makes her angrier. And sadder.

“Just-- just leave me alone, Bruce,” she snaps.

“I don't...” He shakes his head apologetically. “I don't think I should... I'm sorry.”

She finds that she's crying again, frustrated beyond belief. Why can't Bruce just leave her be, leave her to her humiliation?

“Okay...” Bruce murmurs, glancing behind them. “I have an idea. Will you come with me?”

“What?”she asks,and her voice sounds all thick and gross and she bets she's bright fucking red now.

“Do you want to stay here and wait for Thor to come find you?”

She glares at him. “ _No_ , obviously not.”

Bruce pulls a face at her, like a silent, 'I thought so'. “Okay, then come on.” He gestures down the hall and she goes because it seems better than all the alternatives at the moment.

“Where are we going?”

Bruce stops in front of a set of elevator doors and pulls his keychain out of his pocket. “The roof,” he says, and swipes a card from his keychain through the card reader. The doors slide open and they step in.

“There's a roof? I thought the building ended in a... point,” she says.

“It's small,” Bruce says, “but I go up there sometimes.”

The elevator lets them off as close as they can get to the roof, and then Bruce leads her to a set of stairs that open out onto it.

“Wow,” she mutters, looking out over the city, her anxiety blown away for a few seconds at the sight. It's getting dark and all the lights are coming on in the buildings around them, like pieces of glitter on black card. The roof is enclosed by a low wall, and she steps up to it, peering over the edge. It would be so easy to just step over it...

Bruce steps up beside her. 

“Do you ever feel like jumping? Just to see what it's like?” she asks.

“Frequently,” he says. “These days I'd just get in touch with my inner monster halfway down, but before...?” He tips his head towards her. “I'm the king of intrusive thoughts.”

“Mm,” she murmurs, and watches cars wind their way around the roads below for a moment before sighing heavily. “God, this is all so humiliating.”

“Hey,” he mutters, and knocks his fingers against her hand for a moment. “Believe me, that back there was _nothing_. I have humiliated myself in every conceivable way in the last eight years. Your problems don't even register.”

“Hey!” she says, and gives him a smack on the shoulder. “This isn't about you!”

He chuckles, lips pursed as he looks ahead.

She smiles and runs her fingers through her hair. “I just wish I didn't feel so... _angry_. I've been angry before, you know, but this is... I don't know what this is.”

“It's... encompassing,” Bruce says quietly.

She takes a breath and wipes her fingers across her mouth. “Yeah, it is. And I don't know how to stop it.”

“I wish I could tell you something helpful,” Bruce says, “but I've never figured it out.”

She wraps her arms around herself again and sighs. “It's fine, I guess I'll get used to it.”

“You shouldn't have to...” Bruce murmurs, and she doesn't know what else to do but shrug. “I do have one idea,” he adds.

She looks at him. “Lobotomy?”

“That's plan B,” he drawls, and nods to the centre of the roof. “Come on.”

She follows him away from the edge, frowning at his back. “What are we doing?”

“I used to do this when I was younger. When I was still in Ohio.”

“Do what?”

He turns back to her, a slight smile on his face. “Scream.”

“Scream?”

He nods. “Find somewhere remote and just scream my lungs out. It helps.”

“I don't know...” she mutters.

“It's satisfying,” he says.

“It's embarrassing.”

“I can leave. I mean, don't do it if you don't want to, but you should let your anger out, at least a little.”

“No, no.” She reaches out to stop him from leaving, though he didn't actually make a move to leave. Screaming doesn't sound so bad right now. Better than crying, at least. Stronger. “No, stay. I can... try.”

He nods and she squares her shoulders, looking back out at the city. She can do this. 

She tips her chin up and takes a deep breath, then lets out a very pathetic, uneven 'ahhh', and clears her throat.

“Don't laugh,” she mutters.

“I'm not laughing,” Bruce says seriously, fixing his gaze on the floor.

She takes a deeper breath and tries again. It's better, but still embarrassing. She can't let go of that embarrassment.

“Shut your eyes,” Bruce suggests quietly.

She glances at him, then nods and closes her eyes. She tightens her hands to fists at her sides, takes a breath, and _screams_. It's a terrible, horrible, wonderful sound, sharp enough to shatter glass, it seems like. She clenches her fists until her nails dig into her palms and pain radiates up into her wrists, but she finds that she doesn't care at all – she can feel the throbbing in her hands, and the cold wind blowing around them, and the concrete scuffing the bottoms of her shoes, and her throat getting rough and sore, but she doesn't care about any of it any more.

Her lungs fail her after a couple of minutes and she stumbles back a step from the shock of it, gasping for air.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asks, resting a hand on her back.

She straightens up and turns to him, seeing the concern painted all over his face. She's not sure that she's okay, she probably definitely _isn't_ , but she is awake; she feels awake and alive for the first time in a long time. It flits through her mind to tell him this, in whatever incoherent way she could string together, but it feels like it needs to be physical, like she can't explain herself any other way than physically, so instead she kisses him. She just reaches up a little and rests her hands on his shoulders and kisses him.

His arms come up immediately around her, palms pressing against her back, then sliding up to her shoulder blades. He presses in a little and makes a funny little humming sound, kind of like he did when she kissed his cheek weeks before. There's something about the kiss that makes it feel really intimate and familiar and she's just sliding her hand up towards his hair when he breaks it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he says, licking his lips.

She looks at his mouth and leans back in. “I'm sure I don't want to stop,” she says, and covers his lips again, to no protest from him. She throws an arm around his shoulders and tries to pull herself up, to a degree of success, while Bruce holds onto her tighter, arms shifting until she can feel his elbows pressing lightly into her waist. 

His stubble scratches against her chin and his nose presses against her cheek as he pushes into her and closes his mouth around her bottom lip. She slips her fingers into his hair and he makes a high-pitched, whiny kind of sound. She smiles, swiping her tongue between his lips and tugging on his hair to another positive reaction; she's found his kryptonite.

They stop after a couple of minutes but Jane keeps her hold on him, fingers in his hair, and he doesn't try to move away, just looks at her with a slightly concerned expression.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I don't... No, I don't think so.”

He nods slowly, face tensing up a little. 

She tugs on his hair. “But not because of this,” she says. “This was nice.”

He shifts, tapping his fingertips against her back. “I don't want to take advantage of you...” he murmurs.

She snorts and shakes her head. “If anything, I'm taking advantage of _you_. You're way too nice to me.”

“No, I'm not,” he says and kisses her forehead.

She's pretty sure he _is_ too nice to her and to everyone else. Who else would choose to stick around with an incoherently ranting person, especially when that person's sort of boyfriend didn't. She lets it pass, though, and loosens her grip on his shoulders, instead slipping her fingers around the collar of his t-shirt. “I have a confession,” she says.

“Oh... kay,” Bruce says, leaning back to look at her.

“It's not bad. It's just that when I was a freshman at Harvard I... had sort of a crush on one of my TAs...”

He frowns at her for a moment before widening his eyes. “Wait, you mean me?”

She laughs and leans up to kiss him again. “Yes, I mean you.” He shivers as their mouths meet, and she gives him a peck before settling back. “Are you cold?”

“I am, but that's not why I'm shivering.”

She plucks at his thin t-shirt and sighs. “I guess we should go back inside...”

“Yeah...”

“But if Thor's there...”

Bruce pulls a sympathetic face. “Yeah, but we can't stay up here all night... Oh, hang on...” He drops one hand from her back and fishes around in his back pocket, pulling out his phone. He thumbs it on and goes into the phonebook.

“You have JARVIS on speed dial?” she asks as he selects the name and hits 'dial'. He shrugs. 

The call connects after half a ring and Bruce puts it on speaker phone.

“How may I help you, Dr Banner?” JARVIS asks.

“Hey, JARVIS, is Thor still in the tower?”

“No, Dr Banner, he has left.”

Bruce glances at her. “Where's he gone?”

“He did not say, but he told Mr Stark that he would be back when Dr Foster 'felt better'.”

Jane narrows her eyes, all that righteous anger building up inside of her again. She sets her jaw and tries not to freak out again. One bout of screaming a night seems reasonable.

“And where's Tony?” Bruce asks.

“Mr Stark has retired to the penthouse, sir.”

“Okay, thanks, JARVIS. We'll be down soon.”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS says and Bruce ends the call.

“Well, he's gone...” he says. “Do you want to go back down?”

Jane shrugs. “Not really. You know what I really want to do? Get drunk and get into a fight with someone. I've never been in a physical fight before... Well, not really...”

Bruce screws up his face. “Well... that's probably not a good idea... We could do the next best thing, though.”

“What's that?” Her immediate thought is 'rough sex', but she kind of doubts Bruce would proposition her like that.

“Video games? Tony has a bunch.”

“Um...” Bruce still has an arm around her and they're almost chest to chest; she kind of wants to cuddle up against him but she resists the urge. “Sure, okay.”

-

Jane doesn't really know anything about video games, but she chooses Grand Theft Auto because she's heard you can kill whoever you want in it.

“I topped out at Q-Bert,” Bruce says with a shrug.

She spends most of the game killing pimps and pedestrians she doesn't like the look of, yelling obscenities at the cops that pursue her, while Bruce just watches her and laughs nervously occasionally.

“So, this is where you two are,” Tony says a little while later, leaning around the door frame. 

Jane spares him a quick glance as Bruce says hello.

“Hey, have you and Thor--”

“We're not taking about Thor,” she snaps, and takes out another pimp. She's pretty sure she's not playing the game right, but fuck, it's satisfying.

“Okay...” Tony mutters. “JARVIS said you guys were on the roof...?”

Jane glances at Bruce irritably, and he presses his lips together and looks back at Tony. “We were just... calming down.”

“Calming down?” Tony repeats, no doubt looking at Jane mashing the controller buttons, but she chooses to ignore him.

“Yes, Tony,” Bruce says, in a tone that brooks no arguments.

“Right...”

“Fucking die!” Jane yells at a particularly annoying pimp.

“Maybe I'll leave you guys to it...” Tony mutters, and she grunts her reply, chasing down the fucking pimp.

“He's gone,” Bruce murmurs a minute later.

Jane takes the pimp out with one shot to the head and hits pause. She leans back into the couch and looks at him. “Do you think I'm crazy?”

“No, of course not,” he says, leaning back with her. “Although I'm not a great judge of what's appropriate behaviour, so...”

She laughs, maybe a little too loudly and hysterically. “Thanks, that makes me feel _much_ better.”

“Glad I could help,” he says, and smiles, showing his teeth. They're crooked, she notices for the first time. Not very crooked, just a little on the bottom set, but it gets her looking at his mouth as his smile slowly disappears, and before he can say anything else, she leans over and kisses him gently.

He hums quietly and slides his hand around her cheek, kissing back, which is pretty much all the go ahead she needs to push forward and scoot closer to him, slipping one hand into his hair.

“Jane,” he mumbles against her mouth, but doesn't continue as she kisses him again.

She pushes him back against the couch and, after a moment's hesitation, climbs into his lap. Bruce grunts, his hips twitching up, and closes his hands around her waist.

“Jane,” he says again, tipping his head back as she starts biting at his bottom lip, his eyelashes fluttering. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

She chases his mouth and starts kissing him again without responding, and he reacts immediately, kissing back, his fingers pressing into her skin. She pushes him back into the couch as far as he'll go, and curls her fingers into his hair. His breath stutters against her mouth and he jerks his hips up a little; she takes full advantage of this, biting at his lips and digging her fingers harder through his hair. He groans, squirming underneath her, and she drags her mouth across his jaw and down to his neck, to his breathy pleasure.

“Jane, ahhh, this is, this is a bad idea,” he forces out, going high-pitched at the end. 

Something goes through her, some thrill at the idea that this might be sort of forbidden. She's never been into that sort of thing before, but it's doing something for her now.

She lifts her head and looks at his open-mouthed, blushing expression. “We shouldn't do this,” she says.

His face falls for an instant, then he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing noticeably from the way his head is forced back with her hand still knotted in his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, we shouldn't...”

She leans in, brushing her mouth over his. “It's _wrong_ ,” she murmurs.

He looks at her, eyebrows climbing, breathing hard. “Yeah, it's...”

She presses an open-mouthed kiss to his lips. “We should stop.”

He makes a whiny, gaspy noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah,” he whispers, eyes flickering over her face for a moment before he takes a deep breath and slides his hands higher up her back. “Fuck,” he mutters, and tips his head forward to kiss her back.

Things escalate quickly as Bruce commits to it fully, holding her tight as they kiss and kiss and kiss. The longer they go at it, the more he shifts around, jerking his hips and resettling himself every couple of minutes, letting out little gasps and moans every now and then.

She pulls back from him enough to slide her hands down between their bodies and get at the waistband of his jeans without breaking the kiss, unzips his fly and wraps her hand around his dick.

He jerks really hard underneath her, pulling away from the kiss to stare at her, breathing fast.

“Any irradiated sperm I should know about?” she asks.

He blinks at her, mouth slightly open. “No,” he says.

“Okay...” she murmurs, and gives his dick an experimental squeeze. His face go slack for a moment. She leans in and kisses his cheek. “Help me with my pants?”

He looks at her with big eyes for moment, mouth open again like he might say something, but then he takes a breath and drops his hands to her jeans. He undoes the button and the zip and she sits up on her knees to let him tug them down past her hips. He hesitates on her underwear, but then hooks his fingers around the elastic and tugs them down too.

“Lift your hips,” she murmurs, and Bruce just looks at her. “So I can get your pants down,” she adds.

His mouth forms an 'O' but he complies and she gets his pants down enough.

Now's the moment of truth. She leans into him, looking down between their bodies, her thighs and his erection, and can feel how heavily he's breathing. She bites her lip and lets herself have a couple of seconds to run through all the myriad reasons that this is the worst idea she's ever had before she sinks down on him.

Bruce tips his head back and groans as she adjusts – he has a thick cock, not very big, and it feels _good_. Really, really good.

“Oh God,” Bruce moans, “this is--”

She grabs his face with her hands and leans in. “A bad idea,” she finishes, and starts kissing him again.

He curls one arm tight around her waist, and slides his free hand up the back of her t-shirt, his callused fingertips brushing over her bare skin, and she clenches her muscles just to hear him huff and stutter, which he does beautifully.

“Jane...” he groans, pushing himself up for a moment before sliding back down to the cushions.

“Don't worry,” she says, her voice breathless, “I'll do the work, you just sit there.” She punctuates this with a thrust forward and he whines and drops his head back against the couch.

She takes advantage of his bared neck, leaning in and kissing up his throat. He sighs loudly and clutches at her tighter, and she rolls her hips again, shuddering along with him.

After a few minutes, her legs start to burn from the effort, and she realises she's never really taken the reins before. It's hard work, but it's paying off, judging by Bruce's moans and laboured breathing.

“Oh, oh, _Jane_ ,” he groans, Adam's apple jumping. “I'm gonna-- _fuck_.”

She wraps one hand around the back of his head and kisses him, though he doesn't kiss back very much as he comes. She feels the moment it happens – his mouth goes slack and his muscles tense up, and she actually feels him come inside of her. It's been so long since she's had sex without a condom, she forgot what a strange sensation it is.

Bruce groans and wraps his arms tight around her, pressing his face to her shoulder, and she curls her fingers into his hair and clenches around him. He groans and shudders into her skin.

After a minute, he raises his head and looks up at her. He looks utterly debauched, mouth pink and swollen, hair a mess, eyes kind of glazed over. “Sorry,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “For coming...”

She grins and kisses his cheek. “After not having sex in years, I think I can forgive you.”

He smiles back, gaze soft, and she kisses him on the mouth again. He hums and pushes towards her, curling a hand around the back of her neck and drawing her closer. She feels around and finds his free hand, then takes it and presses his fingers against her clit. He hums some more and crooks his fingers into her and she grunts against his lips, rolling her hips, riding his fingers and his softening dick.

“Fuck,” she groans, breaking the kiss and bowing her head towards him, rocking her hips as fast as her aching muscles will allow.

Bruce is _really_ good at this, it turns out, pressing his fingers in just right to make her legs tremble, and her breath come hard and fast, and a moment later she comes with a soft moan. Bruce kisses the side of her head and holds her tighter as she shudders. He continues to rub slow circles against her clit and she whimpers a little, biting her lip.

Somehow, though she's had a lot of sex and a lot of orgasms in the last year or so, this is by far the most satisfied she's felt in ages, as Bruce nuzzles against her hair and strokes her back. They stay like that, curled together until she can't bear the feeling of her clothes sticking to her sweaty skin and has to pull away.

“Um...” he murmurs, pressing his lips together.

“I guess I should...” She shifts a little, suddenly aware of Bruce's dick still inside her, and pushes herself back. “I should go wash up...”

“Yeah,” he says, “I'll... wait. After you.”

She nods and looks down at him. God, she's sitting in Bruce fucking Banner's lap. She _fucked_ Bruce fucking Banner. “Okay,” she mutters, and scoots back to stand up. 

She tries to look dignified as she pulls her underwear and pants back up, but doesn't manage it, though Bruce doesn't look all that great tucking his dick back into his boxers either. She takes a breath and nods, then hurries over to the bathroom attached to the entertainment room. 

There's no shower, but there's a toilet and big sink area with a mirror, and when she catches sight of herself she has to stop and look. She looks... sexy – tousled hair, pink cheeks and lips – and she barely recognises herself. When has she _ever_ looked like this before?

She washes up quickly, scrubs water over her face, and finger combs her hair. She looks a bit drearier than before, no longer sexy, just... damp, but it makes her feel less conspicuous. She looks at herself in the mirror one last time and takes a deep breath, before slipping back out of the bathroom.

Bruce is sitting on the couch, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. He looks up when he hears her footsteps, then stands up awkwardly.

“Do you want to...?” she says, pointing back towards the bathroom.

He shakes his head. “I washed up in the kitchen.”

“Oh,” she says, then wrinkles her nose. “Ew, that's kind of gross.”

“Yeah...” He tugs at bottom of his t-shirt and smiles a little. “Don't tell anyone.”

She smiles back and nods. “ Your secret's safe with me.”

“Yeah, um.” He looks at her with a wary expression on his face. “We should probably talk about...”

He trails off and looks down at the couch, the scene of the crime. She shifts on the spot for a moment, then makes a decision and walks over to him.

“Bruce,” she says, and he turns back to her nervously. She leans up and kisses him softly.

“Oh,” he murmurs, and rests one hand on her back carefully, kissing her back. “Are you...?”

“Stop asking me if I'm sure,” she says, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry.”

She smiles. “Do you want to... go upstairs?”

Bruce blinks back at her. “Oh, uh, yeah, okay.”

She takes him by the wrist and leads him over to the elevator. She hits the button for his floor, and he glances at her.

“Your suite's closer,” he says.

She shrugs. “I don't want to go to my suite.” Even after weeks living there, it's still bare and sad, and from the one time she went to his, it was much cozier and homier.

“Okay,” Bruce says quietly.

They get to his floor a couple of seconds later, and walk to his suite, which Bruce lets them into with a key card.

“So,” he says, looking around his messy living room. “What do you...?”

She wraps her arms around herself. “I just really want to get some sleep,” she says.

He looks at her for a moment, then nods and holds out his arm. “Come on,” he says, gesturing to the bedroom.

She follows him in, aware of how weird this is when her suite is just one floor below them, and loiters by the door while he tries in vain to tidy up a little.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “it's not always like this...”

She smiles. “It's fine, I like it. Less depressing than my suite.”

“Oh,” he says, straightening up from where he was picking up clothes. “Well... that's good since I was lying, it is always like this.”

She laughs and loosens her arms from around herself. “Yeah, I figured.”

He smiles back and looks at the pile of clothes. “Do you want something to wear?”

“Uh...” She lifts her shoulders. “Sure.”

Bruce bends down and retrieves a t-shirt. “It is clean,” he says, handing it to her, “even though it was... on the floor.”

“It's fine,” she says, and starts undoing her pants. Bruce clears his throat and looks away.

She pushes her pants down and steps out of them, then unbuttons her shirt and takes off her bra before pulling on the plain blue t-shirt he gave her. It hits the tops her thighs and is loose around her shoulders, but not by that much.

“Okay,” she mutters, and Bruce looks back up at her. She points to the bed. “Can I...?” 

“Oh yeah, yeah,” he says, and pulls back the already unmade covers. “I'm gonna... go do my teeth. I'll be back in a minute.”

She nods and he goes into the en-suite with an awkward wave. She runs her tongue over her teeth; she should really do them too, but she just can't be bothered.

Bruce's bed is very comfortable, she finds, and she burrows underneath his collection of blankets and comforters happily. Bruce comes back out of the bathroom a few minutes later, in just his t-shirt and boxer shorts, and smiles at her.

“Comfortable?”

She tugs the covers up higher and smiles back. “Yes.”

“Good,” he says, and comes to stand by the side of the bed. “Do you want me to sleep on the couch?”

“No,” she says, “no, I want you to sleep here.”

He nods and gets in. “Okay. Um...”

“Are you sure you're okay with this?” she asks, glancing at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm sure,” he murmurs, scooting down underneath the covers and resting his head on one of the pillows. She follows his lead and lies down too, shifting around for a moment before sighing.

“Tomorrow's going to suck,” she mutters.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Do you want me to turn the lights off?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. Bruce leans over to the light switch by his side of the bed, and the lights go off. She takes a deep breath and lets it out, then turns on her side towards him.

He turns his head to her and she can just make out him biting his lip. “Jane?”

“Mm-hm?”

“What about, uh, contraception?”

And the fact that we didn't use any, she fills in silently. “Don't worry, I got the implant a couple of months ago.”

“Oh,” Bruce says softly, and if he's smart enough to figure out how that correlates with Thor, he doesn't say anything. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she replies and closes her eyes.

“Night,” Bruce says.

She smiles a little to herself. “Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEX. You guys should probably prepare for some sex in the next couple of chapters.


	5. Chapter 5

When she wakes up in the morning, there are arms around her and a warm chest pressed to her back. She shifts a little, consciousness filtering in, and Bruce sighs into her hair, nuzzling against her. One of his arms is resting along the dip of her waist, his fingers knotted in her t-shirt, while the other is underneath her head, bracketing her arm, his fingers wrapped loosely around her palm. She opens her eyes a little and looks at the arrangement. Everything feels very calm and comfortable, quiet save for Bruce's rhythmic snoring and warm breath in her hair.

She kind of needs to pee but everything feels so peaceful that she decides it can wait and closes her eyes again. Bruce curls against her a bit tighter, as if he knows.

She wakes up a second time to Bruce moving behind her, sliding his arm out from underneath her head.

“Oof,” he mumbles to himself and the mattress shifts a little as he pulls himself up.

She rolls over and looks up at him. “Morning.”

“Oh, uh...” He rubs at his eyes, looking sleepy. “Hey, I didn't mean to wake you...”

“It's fine,” she says, and pulls herself up too. “What time is it?”

“Um... JARVIS?”

“It is eleven thirty am, sir.”

Jane's eyebrows go up. “Wow,” she says. That means she slept for nearly eleven hours. She hasn't got more than five hours in _months_. “We slept well.”

“We did,” he murmurs. “It was... nice. Although... I probably should have told you that I'm kind of clingy in bed...”

She shrugs. “It's fine. You're right, it was nice. We're pretty late for work now, though.”

“It's Sunday,” he says. “Lab's closed on Sundays.”

“It is?” she asks. Her head feels all jumbled up, he could tell her they were on Mars and she'd probably believe him.

“Yeah, so there's no hurry,” he says, and smiles a little. “Uh... Do you want breakfast?”

She tugs at the covers. “I dunno, I'm pretty comfortable where I am.”

“I could bring it in here...”

“Breakfast in bed?”

“Yeah, if you want.”

She smiles and nods. “Yeah, that'd be nice. If you're okay with that.”

“I suggested it, didn't I,” he says and smiles wider. “What do you want?”

“Toast?”

“Sure. What do you want on it?”

“Um.” She tucks some hair behind her ear and clears her throat. “Do you have any jam?”

“Raspberry okay?”

“Yeah.”

Bruce nods. “Okay. Two slices?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles again and leans towards her for a moment before pausing, expression getting pensive. She closes the gap and kisses him gently.

“Okay,” he murmurs, and gets off the bed to head to the kitchen.

She slips out of bed to use the bathroom when he's gone, and washes up a bit more. She rubs some toothpaste over her teeth and rinses her mouth out, then goes back to the bedroom and gets under the covers again. Bruce comes back a couple of minutes later with a plate of toast and hands it to her with a smile.

She takes it and eyes his now empty hands. “Where's yours?”

“Oh, I don't really eat breakfast.”

She glances at her plate of toast. “I can't eat breakfast in your bed if you're not eating something, that feels weird.”

“Oh,” he says, and scratches at the back of his head. “I can make myself some cereal, if you want?”

“I mean, you don't have to...” she mumbles. How presumptuous is it to demand that someone eat just to make _her_ feel less awkward?

Bruce grins. “I'll get some cereal.”

He comes back a minute later with a bowl of something colourful in milk.

“Are those Lucky Charms?” she asks, peering over.

“No...” he says, shielding the bowl with his hand and laughing. “I grew up in a... strict household, so...”

“Now you do what you want?”

He makes a vague hand gesture. “I try, when I can.”

She nods and eats a few bites of her toast while Bruce eats his cereal, kind of smiling as he does.

“If you don't eat breakfast, why do you even have cereal?” she asks.

“Everyone knows that cereal is the traditional dinner of academics everywhere, Jane,” he says seriously.

She laughs and nods. “I guess you're right.”

They eat in silence for a couple of minutes, which gives her ample time to think about last night. God, what the hell was she thinking? She basically _jumped_ Bruce, maybe he didn't even _want_ to have sex with her. It's not like he's ever given her any indication, he was just nice to her and she abused that to make herself feel better. How many times did he tell her that it was a bad idea? Three, four times? And she just steam-rolled right over him.

“Bruce,” she says, her voice coming out quiet and uneven.

“Yeah?”

“Was last night... a pity fuck?”

He blinks. “A pity...?” he repeats, and laughs a little. “No.”

She puts her empty plate on the bed and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don't have to laugh at me,” she mutters.

His laughter quells, and his eyebrows draw together worriedly. “No, I'm not... It's-- I--” he stammers, and runs his fingers through his hair. “It just seems funny to me that you would think that I'd, I don't know, be doing you a favour by having sex with you or something...”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...” He shrugs. “I'm a loser.”

“You're not a loser!” she says, sitting forward, towards him.

“Oh, I am,” he says and smiles. “You don't know me that well yet. I didn't... I'm very attracted to you, Jane, and I... took advantage of the situation because I just really, really wanted it to happen... I didn't want it to stop.” His voice gets quiet at the end and he starts picking at the blanket.

“You didn't take advantage of anything,” she says, and reaches over to take his hand. He smiles and rubs his thumb against her palm. “I guess we both knew what we were doing, and we weren't thinking about the consequences and...”

He nods. “We definitely weren't thinking about the consequences.”

“I cheated on Thor,” she says. There, it's out, she's said it. No use avoiding the truth. She's a terrible person, she's always hated cheaters and now she is one.

“He's going to see it that way, yeah,” Bruce murmurs. “But look, I'll tell Thor whatever you want me to...”

“What does that mean?”

“Just that... I won't cause you any trouble,” he mumbles.

She sets her jaw and pulls her hand away. “I don't need you to clean up my messes,” she snaps. “I don't need you to, what, tell Thor you 'seduced' me or something? I can deal with my own mistakes.”

“That's not what I...” he says softly, twisting the blanket between his fingers. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It's...” She sighs and shakes her head. “It's fine, I know what you meant, I just feel kind of... tense.”

“Sure,” he says, lifting his head and offering her a gentle smile.

“Okay,” she says, and slides her hands underneath the blankets, clasping them in her lap. “I'll just... I'll tell Thor, I'll woman up.”

Bruce nods, and chews at his lip a bit. She should probably really get out of his bed now.

“JARVIS, has Thor come back yet?” she asks.

“No, Dr Foster, but I will inform you as soon as he does.”

“Okay, thanks...” She looks back at Bruce. “Oh God, I freaked out in front to all the interns, didn't I?”

“Well...” Bruce says, twisting his mouth.

“Oh God,” she repeats, and covers her face with her hands.

Bruce pats her on the shoulder. “It'll be okay. If it makes you feel better, I could have a meltdown in the lab, or something.”

She snorts and shakes her head. “You don't need to do that.”

“Okay, but I can if you want me to.”

She rolls her eyes and bunches the blanket up in her hands. “Can I stay here for a while?”

“In the bed or in the suite?”

She shrugs. “Either?”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely, of course you can.” He clears his throat and starts to blush. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

He lifts a shoulder. “No problem. I'm gonna go have a shower. Unless you want one first?”

“Nah, I'm fine,” she says, “you go ahead.”

It takes her another half an hour to get out of bed, and slowly wash up in Bruce's bathroom. Bruce leaves out a sweater of his and the jeans she discarded the night before for her to wear and then retreats to his living room while she slowly gets herself together. She feels sluggish and anxious and wants to hide in Bruce's bathroom for the rest of the day, but that doesn't really seem all that feasible.

She eventually comes out of his bedroom at one, and finds him sitting on his couch, looking at his laptop.

“Hey...” he says, putting the laptop on the empty couch cushion and sitting forward. “How are you feeling?”

She stuffs her hands in her pockets and shrugs. 

Bruce smiles apologetically. “You wanna sit?” he asks, picking the computer up again and gesturing to the couch.

“Thanks,” she says, and comes over to sit beside him. “I feel cleaner, at least.”

He nods. “That's good.”

She sighs and rakes her hands through her hair. “I should probably check my emails. Can I... use your computer?”

“Oh, sure,” he says, and puts the computer on her lap. “I'll... be in the kitchen.”

She waits until he's gone to log into her account. She has three emails from Darcy, she finds. The first one's from twenty hours ago, and reads, 'So, I just sent Thor your way. Happy to help a sister out!'. The second message is from seven hours ago: 'Hey, so, did Thor find you okay?', and the third half an hour after that: 'I guess you're ~busy~. Shoot me an email when you can!'.

She sighs and hits reply to last email. She'd rather not give Darcy any indication of what's gone down, but she guesses she needs to know where Thor is. 

'Hey,' she writes, 'Me and Thor had a bit of a fight and I haven't seen him since last night. Have you seen him?'

That's about as simple as she can make it, she figures, and hits send.

“Hey,” Bruce calls from the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

She takes a breath and puts the laptop aside. “Sure.”

“What do you want?” he asks.

She sighs and stands up, walking over to the kitchen. “Just water's fine,” she says at the door.

“Okay,” he says, and goes to the fridge to retrieve a jug of water.

She walks into the kitchen as he pours her the glass and offers it to her. “Thanks,” she murmurs and takes a sip.

“You o--” He clears his throat and glances away. “I should probably stop asking you that, huh?”

“It's fine. I just emailed a friend, asked if she's seen Thor. She knows him too.”

He nods. “Okay, that's... good,” he says, trailing off awkwardly.

She puts the glass down on the counter and rubs a hand over her face, closing her eyes, and when she opens them again, Bruce is a couple of inches closer to her, looking concerned. As she lowers her hand from her face, he lifts his, fingers twitching, and just stays like that for a moment.

“I wish I could make this better for you,” he says quietly.

She shrugs and slips her fingers around his hand and squeezes. They stay like that for a moment, until Bruce pulls her in and tentatively puts his arms around her. She wraps hers around his waist in turn and presses her face to his shoulder.

Bruce hugs her firmly, his arms pressing in against her back, and she closes her fingers loosely around the fabric of his t-shirt. If she cries a little, then he doesn't call attention to it, just kisses the side of her head and strokes her back. 

“You wanna watch a movie?” he asks into her hair.

For the first half an hour of the movie, they sit apart, staring straight at the screen. Jane can't focus at all as she replays last night over and over in her head, and beside her Bruce fidgets and keeps shooting glances her way. She bites at her lips and crosses her arms tightly over her chest, trying her best to slow her breathing down.

Finally she says, “Bruce?”

He turns and looks at her. “Yeah?”

“Will you...” She trails off and shrugs, rubbing at her arms.

Bruce scoots closer and gently puts his arm around her. “This?”

She nods. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “Thank you.”

They watch mostly in silence. After a while, Bruce moves his arm from her shoulders to her waist and rubs his thumb against her hip occasionally. When the movie is done, they start up another right away. The reliable monotony of movie-watching calms her considerably and it's seven by the time Jane feels like resurfacing again. Bruce stretches his arms over his head and she can feel his muscles tense and hears his joints pop.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asks, pushing himself up and running his hand down her arm.

“Sure. What've you got?”

“Mm... How about a sandwich? I haven't had a grocery delivery yet.”

She smiles, tipping her head back to look at him, and indulges in her desire to lean up and kiss him. Bruce cups his palm around the back of her head and kisses her back for a moment before getting up. When he's gone, she drags his laptop over to her again, and checks her emails again. Darcy's replied to her question, and Jane instantly regrets sending that email.

'I haven't seen him. What happened? :O,' Darcy's email reads. Jane shouldn't have got her involved, now she's going to have to explain all of _this_.

'Nothing important,' she writes back, 'just a disagreement. I'll fill you in later.'

Bruce comes back out with a couple of plates and she quickly logs out of her email and shuts the laptop.

They eat their sandwiches on Bruce's couch, talking about work and movies and anything other than the glaringly obvious. When they're done eating, Bruce takes the plates back to the kitchen, then comes and sits down beside her.

He looks at her for a long moment before taking a breath. “Movie?”

-

She doesn't go back to her suite at all that day, and gets back into bed with him at midnight in clothes he lends her. She's really going to need new underwear soon.

She settles down against his chest and sighs. “Today wasn't so bad,” she says.

He sweeps a hand up her back and kisses the top of her head. “It wasn't,” he agrees quietly.

She slips into sleep easily after a few minutes, using Bruce's shoulder as a pillow, and sleeps straight through until his alarm goes off at eight thirty.

“Ugh,” she mutters, tucking her face into his neck.

“Mmph,” he mumbles, and she hears a thump and the alarm goes quiet.

She sighs and runs her hand up his chest and around his neck, where his skin is warm and soft, then pushes herself up and kisses him. He curls his fingers into her hair loosely and kisses back, sighing a little, his eyes closed.

The kiss starts out slow and sluggish, as they both wake up. Bruce's grip slowly starts to tighten on her hair and his breathing gets heavier. She slides her leg up, across his hips, and brushes against his erection. Bruce jerks and opens his eyes, looking up at her. She pauses for a second, her lips brushing over his, then presses into him again. He runs the hand not in her hair up her back and rests it on her shoulder. 

As they kiss, Jane starts pulling at him, his t-shirt and his hair. He slows when she touches his t-shirt, but squirms and pants when she tugs his hair, and when she pushes herself up and presses him into the mattress he groans and flexes his fingers into her skin. His other hand has fallen away from her hair now, lying unused on the mattress, and she looks at it as they kiss.

His eyes are closed so he doesn't see her reach for his hand, and his eyes pop open again when she curls her fingers around his wrist and pins it to the mattress. 

“Mm,” he hums, twitching his hips a little.

She smiles and takes his other hand from her shoulder and pins it down as well, so that his wrists cross over each other, and straddles his chest. He looks up at her, breathing heavily, mouth open, and she hunches over him, both of their arms raised over their heads. It's kind of an awkward position, but Bruce's eyelashes flutter and his cheeks pink, and she thinks that the discomfort is worth it, for this. This thing she shouldn't be doing, compounding the night before last's not-pity-fuck on Tony Stark's couch, but somehow that just makes it better. Sharper.

She kisses him like that for a few minutes, dragging it out as slow as she, and he, can stand it, until Bruce is twitching and squirming beneath her, dragging his feet across the sheets. She pulls back and looks down at him again, and his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows. He stays quiet, but he looks like he's anticipating something, and licks and bites at his lips.

She looks at him for another minute, as he gets more twitchy and aroused, then pulls one hand away from his wrists and gets off him, settling back down on the mattress. He groans unhappily, rolling his shoulders, but she doesn't give him time to register his complaint before she shoves her free hand past the waistband of his pants and curls her fingers around his dick.

“Oh,” he gasps, tipping his head back into the pillow. She squeezes and slides her hand up and down slowly, and he half moans, the sounds getting cut off in his throat, and arches his back.

She stretches up and kisses the highest place she can reach, his neck, and scrapes her teeth over his pulse point. She doesn't have a lot of room to manoeuvre in the position she's got herself in, but thankfully he's pretty compact and she has a relatively long arm span for her size, and she makes it work. Bruce arches and squirms and jerks helplessly in her grip, bending one leg and digging his heel into the mattress as if he's trying to hold onto something, groaning and whimpering like he's continually tumbling over the edge. 

Jane likes it, she _really likes_ it; he is helpless and laid open to whatever she wants to do, and moreover _he_ likes it too, if the sounds are anything to go by. He practically crying with pleasure, shuddering and whimpering at every slight change in pressure, and she's throbbing all over as she watches him get so lost in it. She presses her thighs together as hard as she can, which just makes the throbbing intensify.

Bruce's jerking starts to get really erratic and she slides her thumb over the head of his dick and presses firmly and he whines long and low as he comes hot and thick over her fingers. She lets go of his wrists and presses her fingers between her legs, rubbing hard and fast as she finishes Bruce off with her other hand. It doesn't produce quite the same kinds of throes of orgasm that Bruce is going through, but it's satisfying all the same.

Bruce goes boneless once he's ridden it out, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, and he opens his eyes to stare at her vacantly.

“Good morning,” she says, aware that her hand is covered in his come.

“Hey,” he croaks. He shifts his arms like he's going to try to push himself up, but JARVIS cuts in before he even lifts his head.

“Dr Foster, Dr Banner, Thor has returned. He is... unhappy.”

“Oh God,” she mutters, looking around for something to wipe her hand with.

“Just wipe it on the sheets,” Bruce murmurs, struggling to pull himself up.

She does, cringing a little, then reaches out to help him up. There's an increasingly anxious knot in her stomach, but she can't help but feel soothed just a little, looking at Bruce.

“Remember, I won't--” Bruce begins, but gets cut off by hammering at the suite door, violent enough that she can feel the vibrations through the bed.

“Jane!” Thor yells through the door.

“How did he know I was...” she murmurs, scooting to get off the bed. “JARVIS, did you tell him where I was?”

“I told him where Dr Banner's quarters were when he asked, Dr Foster,” JARVIS says, “however, I did not tell him you were in them.”

She takes a breath, and stands up. “Okay,” she says.

“Wait, hang on,” Bruce says hurriedly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed with some effort.

“You should probably stay in here,” she says, as Thor knocks and yells again and she can feel it through her feet. 

“He sounds angry,” Bruce says. All the colour from before has drained from his face, she notices.

“Well, yeah, that's be expected.”

“Just wait for me, okay?” he asks, planting his feet on the ground and standing up.

Bruce looks a little shaky on his feet and his skin is shimmery with sweat, but his expression is grim and she doesn't think she'll be able to change his mind.

“Okay,” she says, and Thor hammers on the door again. “But I'll do the talking.”

He nods. “It's just-- he sounds angry,” he repeats.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, and walks out into living room, Bruce at her heels.

She takes a moment to shore up her defences and makes Bruce back up a little before opening the door.

Thor looks down at her, then glares at Bruce. “So, it's true,” he says, low and thundering.

She tips her chin up. She could ask him exactly what he's referring to, but that seems disingenuous. “Yes.”

“Heimdall told me what he was seeing but I refused to believe him. _My_ Jane would never do such a thing.”

“Hei-- your--?” Her brain stutters, trying to choose which thread to pick up. “ _Heimdall_?” she settles on. “You got your _buddy_ to spy on me?”

“He sees everything that happens in the nine realms,” Thor says, scowling.

“I know he sees fucking all!” Jane yells. “But that doesn't mean you get to surveil me because of it!”

“Well,” he says, glancing over the top of her head to Bruce, “it seems I was right to.”

She very nearly hits him, but clenches her fist at her side instead. “What did I tell you,” she hisses, “two days ago?”

He looks at her and blinks. “You said... that you didn't want to see me again,” he says slowly, brow crinkling up. “But... that was in the heat of the moment...”

“So, you didn't believe me?”

“You were upset, I wanted to give you time...”

“Time for what?” she snaps, and digs her fingers into her leg. “Does me being upset mean you get to not listen to me? Like I'm some dumb mortal child? Like I'm a _goat_?”

“Jane, you know that's not how I feel about you...” he says in a gentle voice, as if he's talking to a scared animal. He stares at her earnestly for a moment, then glances over her shoulder. “Perhaps you could leave us, Dr Banner,” he says thinly.

Jane looks back at him too. He looks pale and anxious and rooted to the spot. He twitches his head to the side, and she takes that as a 'no'.

“It's his quarters, he can stand wherever he wants,” she snaps.

“Yet perhaps he could afford us some common courtesy,” Thor says.

“These are his quarters,” she says, louder and slower. “He can stand there if he wants to.”

Thor glares at her for a moment, then softens. “Jane. I have not been attentive enough to you, I know. I've been distracted, I know you've been unhappy... I will talk to my friends, my father, I know their dismissal rankles.”

“It's not about that,” she says, then amends herself. “It's not _just_ about that. Do you know how much I gave up? My home, my job, my reputation, my _self-respect_? I don't give a fuck if stuck up assholes don't like me, it's not like I haven't had to deal with that before. I've been disrespected and underestimated my whole life, and that was okay, but when I start believing it? I can't give up my self-respect for you.”

“And this is how you seek to regain your self-respect?” he says, jerking his head towards Bruce.

She can't help it this time, she slaps him without a second thought. “Don't drag him into this!” she shouts.

“I think _you_ already did,” Thor says sharply, and she feels herself shake with anger. He didn't even so much as flinch when she hit him – it's like everything just rolls off his back.

“Get out!” she shouts.

“Jane, Jane,” Thor says, placating again. “I'm sorry, that was unkind of me. I am truly sorry for all the things that happened to you because of me, but surely after all we've been through... Jane, I love you.”

She flinches at the words. That's a low blow, but she finds herself lost in it for a moment anyway. Being loved, being loved by _this_ man... She takes a breath and tries to shake it off. “Okay and if we did stay together? Your father, your friends, they all act like I'm either a moron or a cute little pet, because I'm just some 'mortal'.”

“That's not...” He trails off and sighs. “They don't know you, and mankind, as I do. They will learn how astounding you are, and in time Asgard _will_ accept you.”

Something snaps in her head at that. “I don't want to be accepted by anyone!” she practically screams at him, and he takes a step back, surprised. Finally, something sticks. “Do you know how hard I've worked to be accepted in every part of my life? In school, in my career, in relationships? I'm not doing it any more, I refuse to.”

“Then what do you want?” Thor shouts back. Good, good, a real fight's just what she wants, a nasty, brutal shouting match. “You want the stars, but give up on them, you wait years for me, yet can barely speak to me when we're together! All of Asgard could be laid open to you, yet you resist it?” He throws his hands up in frustration. “I don't understa--”

Suddenly Bruce is standing in between them, and all the righteous anger building in her chest is put on hold as she looks at the back of Bruce's head.

“Bruce?” she says. His shoulders are weirdly hunched in and his breathing is loud and ragged.

“Get out,” Bruce tells Thor, in a low, gravelly tone.

“Dr Banner,” Thor murmurs, and Bruce shakes a little. Thor's eyes widen a touch and he drops his hands to his sides. “Dr Banner, I mean you no harm...”

“Get out!” Bruce growls.

Jane lays her hand gently on his shoulder and Bruce doesn't react to it, but when Thor tries to touch him, he jerks back violently.

“Bruce, calm down,” she murmurs.

Thor looks stricken. “Dr Banner, I am not going to hurt Jane...”

Bruce doesn't respond, but his breathing gets louder and louder, to the point where he's really just growling. Jane puts her other hand on his shoulder and looks at Thor.

“You need to go.”

“Jane...” he murmurs uncertainly.

“Go,” she says.

“Jane, Dr Banner is not...”

“ _Go_ ,” she insists.

Thor stares at her for a moment, then Bruce, then nods once and turns to walk back down the hallway. He might linger, but she closes the door immediately and doesn't find out. She turns Bruce around to face her, and looks at him. His features look slightly out of line, like his brow is heavier and his jaw is jutting out. She places her hands gently on his cheeks.

“Bruce?” she murmurs.

He stares back at her, jerking every time he takes a breath.

“Bruce, can you hear me?” she tries again.

He twitches. “Ye-es,” he stammers.

“Okay,” she says, and strokes her thumb along his cheekbone. “Let's sit down.”

She manages to get him over to the couch, though his whole body has gone stiff and he can't seem to loosen himself up to walk properly. He sits down awkwardly and she keeps her hands on him, like she's anchoring him to the present.

“You don't like it when people fight?” she asks.

“No,” he grunts.

“I'm sorry,” she says softly. “He wasn't going to hurt me, you know. It was just an argument.”

Bruce shudders and abruptly all the stiffness goes out of him and he falls forward. She catches him and wraps her arms around him.

“Okay,” she says, rubbing his back. “It's okay.” She's not entirely sure what it _is_ that's okay, but it's all she can think to say.

“She used to...” Bruce mumbles, face pressed against her shoulder, then trails off, making a clicking sound in the back of his throat like he's trying not to cry.

“Who?” she asks.

“'He won't hurt me, don't worry',” Bruce mumbles, almost incoherent.

Jane strokes her fingers through his hair, twisting to look at him so that the underside of her chin is pressed against his forehead. “Bruce, what are you talking about?”

He makes a funny little gasping sound. “My mother.”

“Your mother... Oh,” she mutters.

“He used to-- used to hurt her everyday,” he whispers.

“Your father did?”

He nods shakily against her neck. “And me.”

Her blood runs cold for a second as she processes that, and she stills, taking a shaky breath while he cuddles up against her a little more tightly. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “shouldn't have told you that...”

“Hey, no, don't apologise,” she says, and cups her hand around his cheek. He pulls back a little and looks up at her. “If I'd known, I wouldn't have started yelling at Thor...”

Bruce takes a breath and wipes his palms over his face. “It's fine. Normally it's okay, I can deal with people fighting. Tony and Pepper argue all the time and I don't mind that.”

Jane snorts, and Bruce smiles at her. “But you're just... you're so much smaller than Thor and the yelling and... my mind whited out when you slapped him, Hulk...” He shakes his head and sighs.

“I shouldn't have done that, I just got so _angry_ at him. Ugh.” She rubs her hand over her face and shakes her head. God, doesn't that sound like something Bruce's abusive father would say? “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” he says. “If you want to go talk to him again...”

“No, no, I'm good,” she says, and leans in to kiss him on the corner of the mouth. “I'm good here.”

He sighs through his nose and tilts his head to slide their lips together and kiss her back for a moment before pulling away and smiling. “I think I've run the whole gamut of emotion today and it's not even nine thirty yet,” he mutters.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning: Discussion of past physical abuse**.
> 
> Also, this chapter is about two thousand words longer than previous chapters because there was no good place to break up the story.

The week passes strangely. She goes back and forth between her suite and Bruce's, finally getting some clean clothes and properly washing herself, but she always ends up in his bed at night. They don't have sex again, just sleep. She actually sleeps, deep, eight hour sleeps, and wakes up without that thick, cotton wool wrapped around her brain feeling. It's a relief.

In the lab, the interns give her a wide berth, which is better than most alternatives she could think of. It's still humiliating as fuck, though, especially when Jenny tiptoes around her, leaving Bruce's tea on his desk and scurrying back to the other side of the lab. It's like they've transferred all their skittish fear of Bruce onto Jane, and she's even more surprised that he's able to stand this kind of treatment. Erik isn't much better, though he's not skittish around her, just nags and nags.

They go out for lunch everyday, just to escape the tension of the lab. The food is overpriced – a sandwich for Jane and a box with some cheese and an egg in it for Bruce (which isn't lunch as far as she's concerned, but he doesn't listen to her) – but she feels pleasantly insignificant amid the crowded Starbucks. 

On Friday afternoon, when they're sitting by the window, a teenage girl in a green t-shirt bearing a cartoon of the Hulk on it walks past, with bulky head phones on. A few minutes later, a kid in a Hulk mask races the opposite way up the street. Bruce grimaces.

“Isn't it flattering?” she asks.

“Mm, it's weird,” Bruce says. “And kinda... I don't know. I mean, they wouldn't love Hulk if they knew about the things he's done. We've done.”

“Maybe they would.”

He shakes his head. “They wouldn't. You wouldn't...” he adds softly.

“Hey!” She pokes him in the arm and scowls at him. “Don't tell me how I'd feel.”

“Sorry...” he murmurs.

“Hm,” she hums back.

“But you don't know what he did...” Bruce continues, shaking his head a little.

She purses her lips and sighs. “He did bad things, right? He caused bad things to happen to people? _You_ caused bad things to happen to people?”

He nods, looking down at his hands.

“Well, that doesn't make you a bad person.”

“Maybe...” he says, very quietly.

“Unless you think _I'm_ a bad person,” she adds.

He looks up, frowning. “Why would I--?”

“Because I'm responsible for hundreds of deaths on Asgard, indirectly. Including Thor's mother.” She shifts on the hard seat and takes a breath. “If I hadn't been poking around where I shouldn't, if the Aether hadn't possessed me, then Thor wouldn't have come back and he wouldn't have taken me to Asgard, and his mother wouldn't have had to protect me from Malekith and then she wouldn't have died...” She finds that her voice has got quieter and quieter as she speaks, until it's barely above a whisper and Bruce is staring at her with big eyes. “So, two can play at that game,” she finishes lamely.

Bruce smiles a little, reaching over to rest his hand on her knee. “Let's talk about something else,” he says.

They go back to work not long after and she spends the rest of the day trying to seem very busy with her work so that the interns won't find any reason to speak to her. Everyone peels off home by seven, leaving just the two of them to tidy up the office. Erik tries to hang around and talk to her, but she gives one word answers, and he scowls at her for a moment before shaking his head and giving up.

Bruce watches him leave with a slightly pinched expression.

“Don't you start,” she says, and turns back to her desk.

“Do you wanna go out for dinner?” he asks. She looks back around at him; he looks surprised that he's spoken.

“Oh... Sure. Is it fancy dinner?”

He bites his lip. “Um, if you want it to be? I can put on a nice shirt.”

“I have a dress,” she says.

Bruce smiles a little. “All right. Uh, do you have any preferences for restaurants?”

She thinks about it for a second. “Something French.”

Bruce nods. “French is fancy,” he says, then snorts and shakes his head slightly. “Okay, well, I'll... go change. And find a restaurant.”

“I have some recommendations, sir,” JARVIS pipes up.

-

Once she's in front of her suitcase, which is still packed with the clothes she brought but has never worn and therefore never bothered moving into the closet, she starts to regret insisting on something fancy. She isn't fancy! She doesn't wear fancy clothes, she doesn't wear make-up, and now she's going to spend dinner with her nice bra digging into her ribcage while she worries about whether her eyeshadow has got rubbed off her face or not.

She puts on her nice dress, the floaty chiffony one that makes her feel awkward, and some red lipstick and calls it done. A couple of minutes later there's a knock at her door, and she fusses with her hair for a moment before going over to answer it.

Bruce is standing on the other side, hands buried in the pockets of his grey pants. His hair looks oddly neat and he's smiling softly at her.

“You look really nice,” he says.

“So do you,” she replies. He's wearing a yellow shirt along with the grey pants and it really does suit him.

He glances down at himself. “Tony gave me these ages ago – they're the fanciest things I own.”

She smiles at him and they stand on either side of the doorway for a moment before Bruce clears his throat. 

“So, um, I booked a table for seven...”

“Oh!” she says, glancing around for her purse. It's six thirty already. “Sure, let me just...” She gathers up her crap into her purse, shoves her nice flats on, pulls her coat on, and turns back to him. “Okay!”

They make awkward small talk as they leave the tower and start walking over to the restaurant. It's not far, Bruce promises, and then tries to swing his hand back smoothly and take hers, but ends up getting his hand tangled in her coat.

“Oh, uh...” he mutters and she grins, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together.

“Your palm's sweaty,” she says.

“Sorry,” he says, and tries to pull away, but she tugs him back.

“It's okay, I don't mind.”

Bruce smiles and looks ahead, squeezing her hand.

They get to the restaurant just before seven, and the place does look pretty fancy. There are candles on the tables at least – that says fancy to her.

The maître d' looks at them expectantly and Bruce fidgets under the scrutiny.

“Uh, I've got a table for two booked for seven. Under 'Smith'.”

The guy checks his computer and nods. “Right this way, you have a window seat.”

“'Smith'?” Jane asks quietly, as they follow the maître d' to their table.

“Old habits,” Bruce murmurs back.

The maître d' gets them seated in the corner, with a view out onto the fancy hotel across the road and takes a step back. “May I take your coats?”

“Uh, no, I'm good,” Bruce murmurs.

“Ma'am?”

She glances at Bruce, who's slowly taking his coat off, shuffling away from the maître d', and shrugs. “I'm good too.”

The maître d' nods and hands them menus. “A waiter will be by soon to get your drinks.”

Jane slips off her coat and sits down across from Bruce. Bruce smiles at her, then picks up his menu and scrutinises it. She picks hers up too, and reminds herself not to hide behind it again, although it seems like Bruce is doing just that.

She scans the listings and smiles. “Sea bass,” she says.

“Huh?” Bruce says, glancing over the stop of his menu.

“They have sea bass here.” 

Bruce looks back at his menu for a moment, then at her. “Do you like sea bass?”

“Not particularly,” she says, and he frowns. “It's uh, it's a... 'you had to be there' kind of joke.”

He blinks “Oh,” he says, looking utterly confused.

She smiles. “Don't worry about it.”

“Okay,” he says, and smiles back.

A couple of minutes later, the waiter comes round to take their drinks order. Jane checks the wine list quickly.

“Can I get a glass of white wine?”

“Of course. And for you, sir?” 

Bruce looks up and blinks. “Just a... Sprite.”

“Oh,” Jane says, “would you prefer if I didn't...?”

“It's fine, I'm not...” He glances at the waiter. “Uh, it's just a preference, really...”

“Oh okay,” she says, and clears her throat.

“Are you ready to order, or would you like me to come back?” the waiter asks, ignoring their awkward little scene.

“Um...” She glances down at her menu, quickly searching for something that sounds okay. “Can I get the... Filet de.. Boeuf?” she says, no doubt butchering the pronunciation.

“I'll have the soup of the day,” Bruce says, handing over the menu.

“Very good, I'll be back with your drinks soon,” the waiter says, and collects Jane's menu as well before leaving.

“What's the soup of the day?” she asks.

Bruce shrugs. “I thought he might tell me but... he didn't.”

“Oh.” She turns and looks at the waiter's retreating back. “Do you want to call him back?”

“No, it's fine, I'm sure I've eaten worse, whatever it is...” he says quietly, frowning slightly.

“Bruce!” she says, laughing.

His mouth twists into a smile. “What?”

“You just...” She shakes her head, still laughing. “You have such hangdog expressions sometimes.”

He snorts and smiles widely, with all his teeth. “Is this better?”

She holds up her hands. “Now you're just freaking me out.”

Bruce rolls his eyes and straightens up as the waiter returns with their drinks. Jane sips on her wine and watches Bruce eye his glass of Sprite.

“Something wrong?” she asks, putting her wine back down. She's wiped about half of her lipstick off onto the glass.

Bruce sighs. “There's ice in the glass. Now I'm going to have to drink it fast or it'll get all watered down...”

“Fish them out?” she suggests.

“Mm, then I'd have to stick my fingers in it...”

“Or you could just use a spoon,” she says, and slides his glass towards her, picking up one of her spoons. She dips it into the glass and scoops out the first ice cube, then spends a couple of seconds chasing the rest around before managing to hook them and deposit them on the butter dish. She hands the glass back to Bruce, who's smiling a little shyly.

“Thanks,” he says, and takes a sip.

“No problem.”

Their conversation lulls for a little while, and Jane takes the opportunity to look around the restaurant. It's nice: low lighting, old movie posters on the wall, couples looking all romantic together, and then she turns back to Bruce and he blinks and starts fiddling with his napkin.

“So...” she murmurs.

Bruce switches to adjusting his glasses. “So.”

“So. You went to Harvard,” she states, like he doesn't know that already.

“So did you.”

“Yes, I did.” 

Bruce chuckles, and rubs at his chin. “Glad we cleared that up. And then you went onto Culver, right?”

“Yeah. So did you.”

“Yep. They offered me the most funding for my grad work.”

“Same.”

Bruce nods, pursing his lips a bit. Silence stretches out between them again, but this time they're looking at each other, which makes it extra awkward.

“Sorry for being--”

“This is getting kinda--”

They stop and look at each other.

“You go.”

“You go.”

Jane blinks and laughs. “ _You_ go,” she pushes.

“Uh. I was just going to say... sorry for being so weird. I haven't... been on a date in a long, long time.”

She smiles at him. “Last time I went on a date, I hid behind the menu and left before I ordered.”

“Oh. Well, we're doing better already, then.”

“Yeah, we are.” She nods to the waiter as he approaches. “And here's the food.”

The guy sets down their plate and refills her glass, then leaves them to the rest of their awkward conversation.

Jane leans in and looks at Bruce's soup bowl. “So, I'm dying to know, what's in the soup?”

Bruce hums and tastes a spoonful. “Mm, I think there's mushrooms in it.”

“Is that good or bad?”

He shrugs. “I'm indifferent to mushrooms.”

“Well, that's something,” she says.

They lapse back into weird silence as they eat, and Jane drains all of her glass before her plate is cleared, while Bruce remains unenthused about his soup. It's not like he's ignoring her or anything, he looks up at her and smiles every few minutes, but every topic of conversation just peters out to nothing, and fifteen minutes in, she's getting pretty antsy.

“So, um...” Bruce says, and Jane must look up from her plate a little too fast, because he blinks and twitches. “Uh, how are you finding it at the lab? Am I an okay b-- uh, colleague?”

She smiles, relieved at the new topic. “You're okay.”

“Good,” he says, smiling back. “And the lab?”

“It's great, way fancier than I'm used to, and I'm starting to get used to the interns.”

He chuckles. “They take some getting used to, but--”

His phone cuts him off, ringing loudly from somewhere on his person. He frowns and pulls it out of his jacket pocket.

“It's Tony,” he says, still frowning at the display.

“Are you going to answer it?”

He narrows his eyes. “No, it's probably not important...”

“Are you sure?” she asks, as the phone rings off.

“Yeah, it's fine,” he says, and smiles at her. “So, uh, how's the acco--” 

His phone rings again, before he's even managed to return it to his pocket. He lets it ring twice before ending the call. “Sorry. I was going to ask, how's the accommodation?”

She blinks and glances at his phone in his hand. “It's good. Nice and big. I was living in my mom's apartment before this, so--”

Bruce's phone rings in his hand. “Jesus,” he mutters.

“Maybe it's important.”

“If it's important, he can leave a message. Or text.” Bruce shakes his head, ending the call again and tapping some buttons. “Okay, it's on silent now.”

Jane clears her throat, glancing around the restaurant. She's not sure why he's so opposed to talking to Tony. “Okay...”

“Okay,” he repeats, smiling way over the top at her. “You were saying that you were living with your Mom?”

The conversation trails off again after that, until she's feeling even antsier than before. The waiter comes by and fills up her glass again, and she drains almost all of it by the time she's finished her food a few minutes later. This is getting painful.

“Hey, I'm going to go to the restroom,” she says, grabbing her purse.

“Oh, okay,” he says, blinking up at her as she gets up.

“I'll be back in a minute,” she says before she hightails it out of there.

She doesn't really need to pee, but she does anyway before fussing with her appearance in the mirror. She looks... okay. Nothing special, but okay. She knows that Bruce used to date Elizabeth Ross, and that woman is like a super model. Jane isn't a super model, but she's cute enough.

She applies her lipstick painstakingly, trying not to go wide of the edges of her lips. Some people – like Darcy and women on TV – make this look so easy, but Jane is not one of them.

“Big date?” someone asks beside her at the sink.

She glances sideways at them. “Huh?”

The lady, who is much prettier and better made up than Jane, smiles slightly. “Sorry, you were just concentrating so hard on applying your make up. Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you.”

She looks down at the tube of lipstick. “No, it's fine. I guess it is kind of a big date...”

“Well, I hope it goes well,” the lady says, and picks up her purse from the counter. She nods pleasantly to Jane and leaves.

“Uh, thanks,” Jane calls after her, then scrutinises herself in the mirror. She looks okay, her lipstick is on and not smudged, and her hair still looks sort of nice, so she collects up her things and squeezes them back in her little clutch purse (which her aunt gave her for her birthday once; they seem like a step backwards from putting things in a bag and having your hands free, but it was the only appropriately fancy thing she had – a backpack seemed out of place), and heads back out into the restaurant.

The waiter is at their table, and Bruce is looking up at him uncertainly, until he spots her walking over to them.

“Oh, hey, uh, do you want dessert?” he asks.

Jane glances at the waiter. “Um, no, I'm good, thanks.”

“Would either of you care for a coffee?” the waiter asks.

Jane takes her seat and looks over at Bruce. “I'm good. You probably shouldn't...”

One corner of Bruce's mouth tips up. “Yeah.” He looks back at the waiter. “Just the bill, please.”

“Separate or together?”

“Togeth--”

“Separate,” Jane says at the same time as Bruce, cutting him off, then feels her cheeks flush.

Bruce blinks twice. “Separate,” he repeats.

“Of course,” the waiter says. “I'll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Jane waits until he's a few feet away before speaking again. “Sorry, I just, you know...”

Bruce nods, as if that was in any way clear. “Yeah, sure. I just figured since I asked you out... but...”

“Sorry.”

“Don't apologise, I'm not-- it's not a problem...”

“My ex-boyfriend used to say that I emasculated him...”

Bruce frowns. “Thor...?”

“Oh, no, I meant...” She shakes her head. Somehow she doesn't even think of Thor as her 'ex-boyfriend'. “No, I dated a guy before him. Don. He was... yeah.”

Bruce pulls a face. “He sounds like it.”

The waiter comes back a minute later, and they pay up quickly, Jane giving him a big tip because she feels bad that they ordered so little. Bruce seems as anxious as her to leave, and all told they're in and out of the restaurant in forty five minutes.

Bruce takes a breath and looks around when they get back outside. “Well,” he says.

Jane hums non-committally in response.

“Is there anywhere else you want to go?” he asks.

She shrugs. “I guess just back to the tower...”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

They start walking back to the tower in silence, and Bruce's brow is all furrowed as he keeps his gaze fixed on the ground. Jane lets it pass for a few minutes, before drifting a little closer to him and brushing her hand against his. He twitches slightly and looks at her, eyebrows going up, and she slips her hand into his, rubbing her thumb along a callus that runs up the side of his index finger.

He smiles at her and looks ahead again. They're passing by a drug store, and it occurs to her that if tonight is going to go the way she wants it to, she should probably do the responsible thing and invest in some condoms.

“Hey, can we go in there, I need to pick something up.”

“Sure,” he says, still smiling.

She keeps hold of his hand as she walks over to the pharmacy, and searches out the condom display. She stops in front of it, and glances at Bruce. It seems to take him a moment to realise where they are.

“Um, which ones do you like...?” she asks, gesturing at them.

He blinks hard and looks at the display. “Uh...” He reaches out and carefully picks up a pack of large, closing his fingers around the box like he's trying to hide it. 

“Okay,” she says, and tips her head towards to the checkout.

They walk over to join the end of the line, and she's still loosely holding his hand while he clutches at the box.

“So, um,” Bruce says, and rubs at his face with the back of his wrist. “What first attracted you to me, my stunning display of conversational skills, or my complete social maladjustment?”

She snorts and lets go of his hand, wrapping her arm around his waist instead. “I think we're just not fancy date people, you know?”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing a little, “I think that's a given.”

She leans up and kisses his cheek, and when she pulls away she notices that the tips of his ears are starting to turn pink.

They get back to the tower by eight fifteen, ride up in the elevator to Bruce's floor, and get into his suite without running into anyone. Despite technically living with Tony and Pepper, she rarely sees either of them. Bruce makes an uncertain noise by the door and she turns back to him. He smiles softly at her, and she walks back over to him and kisses him. He sighs against her mouth and presses forward, resting his hands on her waist, and she easily urges his mouth open. They do that for a couple of minutes, until there's red lipstick smudged all around his lips.

“Got the condoms?” she asks.

He pulls them out of his pants pockets and holds them up. 

“Okay, come on,” she says, and takes hold of his shirt to lead him into the bedroom. They settle down on the bed, and Jane easily gets him on his back, sliding her hands into his hair. She kisses along his jaw and down his neck, leaving lipstick smudges along his skin, which she finds she really likes the look of on him.

She starts on the buttons of his shirt, getting three of them open before he slides his hands up her back and to the base of her neck. She leaves the buttons for a moment to return to kissing him, pressing him into the bed, eliciting a soft groan. She knots one hand in his hair and slides the other down his side, exploring the bottom of his ribcage and his soft stomach. 

Bruce squirms away from her hand a little and starts kissing at her neck as much as he can from his position, and she takes a minute to just enjoy it, before she returns to the task of seeing him without his shirt on. Considering that they've already had unprotected sex and a jerk off session, it doesn't seem like an unreasonable thing to want.

She sits up and starts unbuttoning his shirt again, and he huffs and shifts around, pursing his lips but not actually objecting to anything. She lets her hands fall away and frowns down at him.

“What's the problem?”

“Nothing, I'm just...” He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Are you embarrassed about me seeing you naked?”

He shrugs.

She rests her hand on his arm and rubs her thumb into his skin. “I won't laugh at you if you don't laugh at my flat chest.”

Bruce snorts and smiles but still doesn't say anything. She narrows her eyes and plants her hands on either side of his head, leaning over him; he tracks her movements.

“Let me unbutton your shirt,” she says, staring down at him. He bites the inside of his lip and nods and she sets to work immediately, unbuttoning his shirt all the way and pushing it open.

He has a... very respectable chest area, thick, dark hair that tapers down into a treasure trail that leads beyond his waist band, and he might be a little thicker around the waist than, say, Thor or Don, but it's nothing that he should feel embarrassed about. To prove it, she leans down and kisses his stomach. There's enough lipstick left on her lips to leave behind a red mark. Bruce hums.

She shifts her attention to his pants and is just about to unclasp his belt when he stops her.

“Hang on,” he says, his voice sounding kind of thick, “what about you?”

“What about me?”

He gestures to her chest.

“Oh, you want me to take my dress off?”

He lifts his shoulders. “Fair's fair.”

She pulls a face at him and sits up on her knees to grab the bottom of her dress and begin working it off over her head. When she's disappeared into the layers of chiffon and floatiness, she hears Bruce huff and feels him shift around, and when she frees herself of the dress and tosses it on the floor, he's looking at her with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Bra?” he asks hopefully, eyebrows going up.

She rolls her eyes and reaches around to unhook her bra and let it fall to her elbows. “They're probably smaller than you're used to,” she says, as she tosses the bra on the floor along with the dress. 

Bruce grunts and runs his hands up her side, brushing his thumb up her ribcage until he reaches the slight swell of her breast. They stay like that for a moment, looking at each other, until Jane takes a breath and sits back.

“I'm going to take your pants off,” she says.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

She tugs them down, Bruce lifting his hips to let her drag them all the way down and off his feet. He's wearing boxers with pictures of Taz the Tasmanian devil and the words 'wild thing' printed all over them. She stares at them for a moment, then squeals with laughter.

“Wha-- oh.” He pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks down at himself. “I forgot I was wearing those...” he murmurs.

She covers her face with her hands and keeps laughing, giggling uncontrollably into her palms.

“Tony gave them to me...” Bruce says quietly.

She shakes her head, still covering her face, and feels Bruce move underneath her. It takes her another minute or so to calm down and drop her hands to meet Bruce's amused gaze. He's watching her with a lop-sided grin.

“Have my boxers ruined the moment?”

She clears her throat and wipes at her face, then looks down at him. His cheeks have gone pink and there's red lipstick around his mouth and trailing down his neck, and it quells her laughter pretty effectively.

“Let's see,” she says, and leans in to kiss him, pushing him back down against the mattress. It's not long before they're back to making out like teenagers, and she manages to get his boxers down around his knees without breaking the kiss. She takes hold of his wrists like she did a few days ago and pushes them up over his head, and he rolls his hips up, his erection rubbing against her thigh. If they keep going like this for much longer, he's going to come all over her.

She pulls back. “Okay, okay,” she murmurs, running her fingers down his arms and around his neck. He shudders and groans. “Condoms.”

“Condoms,” he repeats, and watches as she fumbles with the packet and scoots down to roll it on him.

“Unh,” he groans, twitching his hips up as she gets it on. She gives his dick a quick squeeze and he groans louder, tipping his head back. 

He still has his arms up over his head, and he seems to prefer it that way. She eyes him for a moment, while his eyes are still closed and his cheeks are stained red, shirt open but still on, and a thought comes to her.

“Hey,” she says, and when that doesn't seem to register with him, she taps him on the cheek. His eyes pop open. “Are you particularly attached to your shirt?”

“'m not particularly attached to anything,” he says, looking at her through half lidded eyes.

“Can you take it off?”

“Sure,” he murmurs and struggles around for a minute freeing his arms from the shirt. 

He moves to toss it on the floor along with everything else but she stops him and takes it from him. He frowns as she takes the shirt by its sleeves and twists it into a rope-like shape.

“Put your... put your wrists together?” she says, somewhere between a statement and a question.

He takes a shaky breath and raises his arms over his head again, crossing his wrists. She swallows and leans in, slipping the shirt underneath his wrists and knotting it loosely. She's never tied anyone up before and she doesn't want to cut off circulation or anything.

“Is that okay?”

He nods, running his tongue along his bottom lip, and squirms underneath her.

“Okay,” she mutters, and quickly pulls her underwear off and scoots down his body.

The stretch and burn of his dick is more than she remembers from last time, and she bows her head as she adjusts to it. “Ah,” she mutters, and opens her eyes, looking down where their bodies meet and the fine hair on her thighs.

“Damn, I forget to shave my legs,” she mutters.

“Me too,” Bruce mumbles.

She laughs and starts moving, placing her palms on his chest and rolling his hips against his. Bruce moans, tugging a little at his restraints, but stops after a second and just tips his head back instead. She leans in and kisses his neck, smearing the lipstick around even more, Bruce making small, whiny noises in response.

She keeps a mostly steady pace, and begins to sweat after a couple of minutes – she really is in terrible shape – while Bruce mostly keeps his eyes closed and lets himself be ridden. She looks down at him as she rocks her hips, at his thick chest hair and her lipstick marking his body and his bound wrists, and something goes through her, a thrill that brings her orgasm startlingly close, and she quickens her pace until the bed start to creak under the motion going on on top. 

She runs her fingers down his chest, scraping her fingernails along his flushed skin, and closes her fingers around his waist, tipping forward to gain some more purchase and slam into him. Bruce moans and opens his eyes, staring up at her as she drives him deeper into her, and she leans in and kisses him, pressing her tongue roughly into his mouth. 

Bruce gasps and his shoulders tense up, wrists pulling at the shirt as he comes, and Jane isn't far behind, pressing into him, kiss going messy, digging her fingers into his waist. Her orgasm pounds through her until her ears ring and Bruce's groans seem distant and muffled. She rests her forehead against his chest and tries to catch her breath, while Bruce does the same. She can feel his heart pounding against his chest and hers is probably not much better.

She stays there for a few minutes, until the inevitable discomfort sets in and she has to push herself up.

“Hey,” she says, rubbing her hand up his side, “you good?”

Bruce opens his eyes slowly and smiles. “Yeah...” he murmurs.

She smiles back and kisses his chin. “I'm going to go wash up.”

“Mm-hm,” he hums, eyes drifting shut again.

She snorts and gets off him, scooting down to dispense with the condom and toss it in the trash. She almost forgets to untie his hands, because he seems so content to lie there with his arms over his head. He doesn't even open his eyes when she leans over to loosen the knot and pull the shirt away, although he does mumble his thanks. The shirt isn't ripped, just really wrinkled, so she throws it on the floor with everything else and heads to the bathroom.

She washes up quickly, peeing, splashing water over her face, and finger combing her hair back. When she gets back out, Bruce is asleep _and_ snoring, so she just slips into bed next to him and kisses his cheek. He huffs and swipes at his nose. She laughs and settles in against his side, sleep tugging at her almost immediately.

-

They shift around in the night, and when she wakes, she finds she's pressed up against his warm back. There's light filtering into the room, so she figures it's morning and begins to stir.

Bruce sighs and buries his face in his pillow.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hmph,” he mumbles.

She laughs and kisses his shoulder blade. “Good morning,” she says, and presses her knuckles into the top of his spine.

“Mm,” he hums.

“Like that?” she asks.

“Mmph,” he groans.

She slides her fingers down and digs them in at the middle of his back and Bruce groans again. She switches to the heel of her hand and rubs it further and further down his spine to his marked pleasure.

“Happy?”

“Ngh,” he mumbles, sliding his arm from where it's thrown across the mattress to grip his pillow.

She keeps dragging her hand down his back, through a soft patch of hair until she reaches the small of his back, where the hair abruptly stops and his skin gets bumpy and uneven. She frowns to herself and looks down, flattening her hand against his back. There's what must be an eight inch long scar stretching from the small of his back to his right hip, the skin whiter than what surrounds it and looks like it's been stretched out over many years. She brushes her fingertips over it and Bruce takes a sharp breath in, going completely still.

“Bruce?”

He sits up abruptly, first with his back to her, then scoots around so his side faces her and she can't see the scar any more. He glances at her, then looks ahead, mouth pursed.

“Bruce?” she tries again.

He clasps his hands in his lap and tugs at his fingers.

“We don't have to talk about it,” she says gently.

He hums and pulls harder at his fingers.

“Is that... is that why you didn't want to take your shirt off last night?” she barrels on. _Way to not talk about it, Jane_ , she thinks to herself.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“Sorry.”

He shrugs and looks down at his hands.

“Okay...” she murmurs, and crosses her arms over her chest, suddenly aware that she's sitting there naked. She's about to brush it all off and suggest they have breakfast when he takes a deep breath and straightens up.

“Remember when I told you that my father...” He trails off and presses his lips together.

How could she forget? “Yeah. Did-- oh...” Well, that makes a horrible sort of sense. “Did he... do that to you?”

Bruce nods.

“Oh, Bruce, I'm--”

“That's not the problem,” he says flatly. She falls quiet as he pulls at his fingers some more. “It doesn't upset me that he used to hurt me, I... made peace with it, I guess...”

“Okay,” she murmurs.

He turns to her and sucks his lip into his mouth for a moment. “This scar is the last one he ever gave me,” he says quietly, and that should be a good time, but somehow Jane thinks it's not going to be. “My mom...” He pauses for a second and wipes his palm over his mouth. “she never left me alone with Brian, she was always scared of what he might do to me. Honestly, just me breathing filled him with rage sometimes.”

He stops again and swallows, squeezing his hands to fists. She briefly considers reaching out and touching him, but he looks so tightly wound that she thinks better of it.

“One day,” he continues after another couple of seconds silence, “we were at home, me and my mom. It was my summer vacation and I was watching _The Bionic Woman_ in the lounge. My mom was in the kitchen making dinner and Brian was at work, and she needed to go out and get more sauce for the pasta she was cooking, because Brian wouldn't like it if dinner wasn't just right...” He smiles bitterly and reclasps his hands, digging the nails of one hand into the palm of the other. “She tried to make me go with her, but I wasn't allowed to watch TV when Brian was home, and I _really wanted_ to watch this stupid show. She said she'd only be gone for fifteen minutes to the store.”

Jane takes a shaky breath as Bruce collects himself again. Her heart is starting to pound in her chest.

“Then Brian came home,” Bruce says quickly. “I heard the door open and I thought it was Mom so I called out a hello and went back to watching TV. He never came home that early. Never ever... Then he stormed in, stinking of booze, and told me to turn the TV off, but there was only five minutes to go of the episode and I said... 'please, Dad, it's almost over'. I guess I forgot that he didn't like me calling him 'dad'. He ripped the plug out of the socket and he took his belt off and he beat me with it and my mother came home and screamed at him to stop it and he smacked her round the face and stormed out.”

Jane blinks rapidly as her eyes start to heat up. Bruce is back to staring at his hands.

“When he left, Mom decided we had to go. We'd been to shelters before, but she said that this time would be different and she cleaned up my back and gave me clean clothes and she ran around packing everything up and we hauled it all out to the car and then...” He rubs his hand over his face. “It's funny, I remember every single thing about that day – I remember that the pasta sauce was made by Bertolli – but I don't remember...” He squeezes his hand into a fist and bangs it into his bare leg. “I don't remember him killing her. My aunt told me afterwards that he'd cracked her head open on the concrete in front of me, but I don't remember anything.”

He stares ahead, eyebrows drawing together, and Jane wipes at her eyes, trying to stop the tears that are threatening to fall. It doesn't work and she sniffles instead.

Bruce looks over at her. “Hey, are you...? Don't cry, I'm sorry...”

She shakes her head, feeling herself blush along with the tears – how is she making this all about _her_? “Don't apologise to me...” she says, and more tears roll down her cheeks. “God, I'm sorry,” she mutters, wiping furiously at her face.

Bruce shifts closer to her and wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Hey, it was a long time ago, I'm okay.”

“No, you're not,” she says thickly. It feels like an incredibly rude thing to say, but God, _he's not_. She's been driving herself crazy over her stupid little problems, while Bruce has had to deal with this his whole life.

“Yeah,” Bruce says, and sniffs, wiping at his nose as his eyes get red-rimmed.

“Now you're crying!” she says.

Bruce laughs wetly and sniffles again. “I'm a sympathy crier.”

“So am I!”

Bruce makes a sobbing sound that's closer to laughter than crying and rubs his hand over his face. Jane smiles, and knocks her shoulder into his, and he tips closer, turning his nose into her hair and kissing the side of her head.

“How about we both stop crying at the same time?” he mumbles into her hair.

She nods and takes his hand. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, and nuzzles into her hair for a moment.

She squeezes his hand and wipes at her eyes. “Is there anything more embarrassing than crying while you're naked in bed?”

Bruce snorts and slides a hand up her back. “I can think of some things. Although a lot of my post-Hulk life has involved being naked and crying.”

Jane laughs and pulls away, stretching her arms out in front of her. “Well...”

“Uh, maybe...” Bruce pauses and rubs his fingers over the waxy lipstick smeared across his chest. “I think maybe I need a shower.”

-

Jane tries to get work done, but not only is it difficult to get work done after the morning's confession, she's also distracted by the skin around Bruce's mouth that's slightly inflamed from where the lipstick was. She can't stop looking at it. Other people notice too, she can see their eyes flick to it while they're talking to him, and Bruce doesn't offer them any kind of explanation. It makes her feel... funny inside.

By eleven thirty, she drifts over to his desk to talk to him about her research, leaning over to talk to him.

“Does it itch?” she asks quietly.

“Mm, a bit,” he replies, scanning her work. “This looks promising.”

“Thanks,” she says. “What are you going to say if someone asks about it?”

“General shaving mishap, I guess,” he murmurs, and looks up at her.

She smiles at him, and he smiles back, looking kind of hopeful. She's about to ask him if he wants to go out for an early lunch when one of the interns calls out from across the room.

“Hey, boss, can you come and look at this?”

He blinks, still looking at her. “Boss?” he repeats, mostly to himself, then turns to the intern. “Sure, I'm coming.” He looks back at Jane. “Sorry, I should probably...”

“Oh yeah, sure. Go on, _boss_.”

He pulls a face, wrinkling up his nose, and gets up. The intern, Nick, looks pretty animated about whatever it is, and she figures they'll be a while. She glances down at the paper cup of tea by her hand and, after glancing around, picks it up and tests the weight of it. At least half full. That gives her an idea.

After another quick glance around, she carries the cup into the kitchen and quickly pours away the tea and gets out milk from the fridge and cocoa from one of the cupboards. She puts the milk on to heat and is measuring out the powder when Erik walks in.

“Hey,” Jane says, watching the pan of milk intently.

“Hello,” Erik says, as he walks over to the fridge.

“Hey,” she repeats.

Erik 'hmm's and moves things around in the fridge, and she hopes that that might be the end of the conversation, but she's never been that lucky.

“Jane, we should talk,” Erik continues, having retrieved a plastic container of rice.

“Oh yeah?” she says, dipping a knuckle into the milk to test how warm it is. Not quite there yet.

“About Thor,” Erik says. 

“Mm.” Damn it, why won't this milk heat faster? She turns the burner up.

“How was the reunion?” he pushes.

“It was...” She shakes her head. “Actually, I don't really want to talk about it.”

She can see Erik frown in her periphery, but ignores it and tests the milk again. Good enough. She picks up the pan and starts pouring it into the paper cup, stirring it as she goes.

“I'll assume it didn't go well, considering your behaviour recently,” Erik says.

She twitches. “I said I don't want to talk about it,” she says, as she empties the pan and takes it over to the dishwasher.

“But--”

“Erik!” she snaps, dropping the pan in the dishwasher and slamming it closed. “I'm not going to talk about it, leave it alone!”

“Okay...” he murmurs, raising an eyebrow.

She huffs and jams the lid back on the cup. “Why don't we just both get on with our work?” she says, and leaves without getting an answer.

In the lab, Bruce is still talking with Nick, and everyone else is busy with their work, so she carefully sets the cup back down on his desk and returns to hers. Erik comes back out from the kitchen and looks at her, but she focuses intently on her computer until he goes back to his own.

After another couple of minutes, Bruce and Nick finish up, and he sits back down and starts rifling through papers. He does that for a while, muttering to himself, before sitting back and running his fingers through his hair. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, as he looks at the Starbucks cup and sighs, before picking it up and taking a sip.

He stops and frowns down at the cup, then looks around the room. Jane hides a smile behind her hand and he looks around at her and gestures to his cup. She shrugs, and he pulls a silly face at her, then mouths 'thank you'.


	7. Chapter 7

Her blood feels hot, like it's burning through her veins. There are tendrils creeping out and curling around her, clamping down on her limbs and holding her fast as she struggles against them. She tries to scream but all that comes out is a black cloud, billowing out of her mouth like warm breath on a cold day. She struggles and squirms and pushes back against her captor, her blood burning hotter and hotter as she lashes out any way she can, smacking her hands against something solid, yet soft...

She has a second of clarity in the dream before she wakes up and finds herself shoving at Bruce's chest. She wrenches her hands away as he mumbles something, and scoots away from him as fast as she can.

“Jane? What's going on?” he mumbles, rubbing at his face, and she realises that he's not even aware that she was hitting him a couple of seconds ago.

“Nothing, I just-- need to use the bathroom,” she forces out, and quickly leaves the bedroom.

There are two bathrooms in Bruce's apartment, one en-suite and one near the front door, and for some reason she goes to the one further away and immediately turns on the cold water. She's sweating like a pig and her hair is stringy and disgusting looking, and no amount of splashing water on her face is cooling her down.

“Jane?” Bruce calls, his voice getting louder. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, just a bad dream,” she calls back, aware of the pathetic shake to it. She glances at the shower, and starts pulling off her damp pyjamas as she hears Bruce's footsteps grow closer. She hops in the shower and turns the cold on full blast.

“Jane? It's four AM...” she hears Bruce say.

She ducks under the water and doesn't so much as shiver. “Just go back to bed,” she says, and starts scrubbing her hands through her hair. 

There's no shampoo or anything else in the bathroom, since neither of them really use it, so she just scrubs and scratches at herself with her fingernails, leaving long red claw marks down her arms and legs. She gets herself completely drenched in ice cold water, and it's only after a few minutes that her body and her mind start to connect again and she begins shivering. She shuts the water off quickly and makes her stumbling way to the towel rack, which holds one oversized hand towel. She didn't think this one through.

“I'll get you a towel,” Bruce says, and she jumps and turns to find him getting up from sitting on the floor outside the bathroom. How long was she in the shower for?

Bruce is gone before she can say anything, so she just stands there shivering with the hand towel until he comes back with a towel and hands it to her.

“Thanks,” she mutters, her hands shaking as she wraps it around herself. Bruce frowns and reaches out to touch her wet hair.

“Did you have a cold shower?” he asks.

She nods, and Bruce presses his lips together, looking concerned. “Okay,” he says, and takes the hand towel from her. He reaches up and squeezes some of the moisture out of her hair carefully with the towel, then lays his hand on her shoulder.

“Do you wanna go into the living room?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, and shuffles her feet in that direction. It's like dragging blocks of ice across the floor.

She sits down on the couch and Bruce fetches a blanket off the bed for her and lays it out over her carefully. She gathers it up around herself, pulling her feet underneath it, and waits for her shivers to subside. Bruce sits down beside her.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” she mutters.

Bruce smiles a little. “Believe me, I've done much, much worse than taking a cold shower at four AM. Were you dreaming about the Aether?”

She clasps her hands together and nods. “Yeah, I felt like I was being... attacked...” She shakes her head and scrubs her hands over her face. “I haven't had a nightmare in _weeks_.”

“Nightmares always come when you least expect them,” Bruce says.

“I guess they do,” she says, and sighs. It's been a month now since everything blew up in her face, and, until tonight, she's been sleeping so much better. It felt like everything was okay again, back to normal.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head. 

“Do you think you'll be able to get some sleep?”

She shakes her head again. “I don't think so.”

“Okay,” Bruce says and stands up. “I'm going to make myself something to eat, you want something?”

“Oh, you don't have to stay up with me, you should go back to bed.” He looks pretty tired, and the last thing she wants is to make them _both_ miserable.

He shrugs. “Hey, I'd be getting up in... five hours anyway,” he says, and smiles ruefully. “I won't be able to sleep, if I know you're up, so...”

“Oh.” She twists her fingers together in her lap. “Well. Can I have something warm, please?”

Five hours, two movies, and a few restless naps later, Jane tries in vain to tame her hair. She brushes it out and it stubbornly remains all frizzy and curly. She's about to take another shower, this time with hot water and conditioner, when Bruce walks in and starts collecting his clothes from the floor to get dressed. The fact that all their clothes live either on the floor or, in her case, in suitcases makes her feel like she's back in college sometimes.

“Hey,” he says, as he sits down on the bed and begins to pull his sweatpants off.

“Hey,” she echoes, and tugs unhappily at her hair.

“Hey,” he repeats. “Can I ask you something?”

She sighs and turns to face him. “Sure.”

He disappears into his t-shirt for a second before getting it bunched around his arms. “Why's your hair suddenly curly?”

She runs her fingers through it and sighs again. “I have to use a special conditioner to straighten it out, otherwise it gets out of control like this.”

He starts pulling on his shirt and smiles. “I like it. I mean, I like it straight too, but I like it this way as well...”

“Really?” She looks back at the mirror. It's been one of the few embarrassing vanities she's had most of her life, keeping her hair straight. Kids used to tease her about it, and she hated her hair for years and years, until she was sixteen and figured out how to get it nice and smooth like everyone else's. She's not supposed to be the kind of person who cares about this sort of thing or other people's opinions on her appearance, but she'd lying to herself if she didn't admit that Bruce's compliment makes her stand a little more confidently.

“Yeah. Now we match,” he says, and she turns back in time to see him tug at his own curls.

She chuckles and kneels down to pick up her sweater. “Maybe I could try it out for the day,” she allows.

-

The first thing Jenny says after she deposits Bruce's tea on the desk is, “I like your hair, Dr Foster.”

“Oh.” She pats at her hair and smiles. “Thanks.”

No one else says anything, good or bad, and she slowly gets on with her work. By the middle of the afternoon, she's flagging and, glancing over at Bruce, she's pretty sure he is too. He's been blankly staring at his computer screen for the last half an hour.

“Coffee,” she murmurs to herself and heads to the kitchen.

She putters around in there for a few minutes, making the coffee, before she hears footsteps behind her and looks over her shoulder to find Bruce standing there like a loose end.

“Hey,” she says, stirring the milk in.

“Hey... are you making coffee?”

“Yep.”

He nods vaguely and wanders up to her, settling beside her, leaning against the counter. He stares at her cup mournfully.

She holds it out to him. “You can have some, if it won't make you go nuts.”

He looks at it for a moment, then rubs at his eye. “Maybe a sip?”

“Sure,” she says, and hands it over.

He wraps his fingers around it and takes a drink, then grimaces. “Ugh, when you don't drink coffee for a while, you forget how disgusting it is.”

“Hey!” she says, snatching the cup back from him. “It can hear you!”

Bruce snorts and stretches his arms out in front of himself. “I used to pride myself on being able to work seventy two hours straight. Apparently not any more...”

She hums sympathetically and sips at her coffee again.

“Maybe I should just close the lab early,” he says.

“Maybe you should.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “I could do that, couldn't I? I'm... the boss.”

“Yeah, you're the man, Bruce,” she says and grins at him.

He laughs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Okay, I'm gonna tell them to go home.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he says, and heads back out into the lab. “Hey, guys,” he calls, not very loudly, and only a few people look up at him. 

She comes up behind him, coffee cup still in hand. “You're going to have to talk louder than that,” she says softly.

“Yeah...” He rubs at his forehead for a moment, then bangs his hand against the wall. That does the trick.

“Hey guys,” he repeats, “uh... I'm gonna close the lab early, so...”

“Is something wrong?” Nick asks, a little quiver to his voice.

“No, just... Tuesday. So, if you're working on something important, finish it up, otherwise, everyone can go home.”

The interns clear out pretty quick, since Jane guesses they're expecting Bruce to suddenly flip out and tear the place apart, even though it's obvious to her that he's half asleep. The lab is mostly empty by four, when people don't normally start leaving till seven or eight, until it's just Jane, Bruce, and Erik left.

“Is everything okay?” Erik asks Bruce, though he keeps glancing at Jane. She starts tidying her desk.

“Yeah, I just didn't sleep well last night, and I'm feeling kind of lousy now,” Bruce says, shrugging easily.

“Would you like me to stay behind and help clean up?” Erik says, and it sounds like a nice, unselfish offer, but she thinks that there's more to it than that. He's digging.

“Oh, no, we're-- I'm good,” Bruce says haltingly.

“I've still got some stuff to finish up,” Jane says, leaving her mindless desk tidying behind. “I'll help Bruce close up.”

“It might be easier with three,” Erik says.

“It'll be fine with two,” she counters, and gestures to the window. “It's nice out, you should go and enjoy it.”

Erik scowls at her for a moment, then picks up his jacket. “All right, but call me if you need anything.”

“Sure,” she says, already hurrying him to the door. He moves slow, but she eventually sees him out and closes the door behind him. “Finally,” she mutters.

Bruce smiles and drops down onto the edge of his desk. “I am _exhausted_. This is a really pathetic.”

“I'm still sorry about last night.”

“Hey, come on, I'm just tired, it's not like this is a permanent state.”

“I know, but...” She shrugs and walks over to him, resting her hands on his shoulders. “I don't want the nightmares to start being a thing again, I don't think I could deal with that. I don't think your sleep schedule could deal with it either.”

He wraps his hands around her waist and smiles. “I know. But I'm... here, you know, and I'm familiar with the art of horrible nightmares.”

“I know,” she says, and leans in to kiss him. He hums into her mouth and kneads his fingers into her skin. She shuffles in closer and tips his head back a little to deepen the kiss.

“Mmph,” he hums, sliding his palms up her back. 

It's so easy to get him in rhythm with her, and a couple of minutes later, she's pressed up between his legs and rubbing a hand against his thigh. He spreads his legs a little and she feels that now familiar thrill go through her. She slides her hand up to his growing bulge and he grunts, lips going wide of her mouth and pressing against her jaw instead.

“Sorry, Dr Banner, I just--”

Jane leans back from Bruce and looks around, at a very wide-eyed Jenny.

“Fuck,” Bruce mutters.

“--for- forgot my scarf...” Jenny finishes and snatches said scarf up from her chair. “Um. Sorry! I'll...” She stares at them for a moment, then turns tail and flees.

Bruce sighs and lets his forehead drop onto Jane's shoulder. She automatically reaches up and starts stroking his hair, playing catch up with the situation.

“Well,” she says, “Jenny probably won't tell anyone.”

“Mm...”

She still has a hand between his legs, and she can't help but notice that not all of him is embarrassed. “You're still hard,” she says quietly.

He lifts his head and looks at her. “Yeah.”

“We should probably go upstairs...”

“Yeah.” He licks his lips slowly, still looking at her, and she almost talks herself out of it, when Bruce tugs at her softly.

She leans back in, kissing him with renewed energy. She scrabbles at his shirt, unbuttoning it haphazardly, and he scoots backwards on the table.

“Shall I lock the door?” JARVIS asks.

“Yeah,” she breathes, and climbs on after Bruce, setting one knee between his legs.

The table groans under them.

“I don't think its going to hold our weight,” Bruce mumbles.

“What are you suggesting?” she teases, nuzzling his cheek.

“My weight,” he amends.

She laughs and scoots back. “Let's try the chair.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling back.

Jane hurries him to the chair, pushing him down into it and climbing onto his lap. She starts kissing him again, pressing him into the soft cushioning.

“Mmph,” he grunts happily, shifting underneath her. She palms his chest and his side for a minute as they kiss, until she leans forward too far and the chair tips abruptly.

“Ah!” she yelps, tucking her head down against his shoulder as Bruce flails to keep their balance. He manages to plant his feet on the ground and keep them upright, but sets them rolling across the lab floor and Jane starts giggling uncontrollably.

“Okay, I think maybe we both need to get some sleep before we try any more strenuous activity,” Bruce says, rubbing her back.

She wipes tears of laughter from her eyes and nods. 

-

Going to bed early (Bruce sacks out at eight thirty, and Jane not much after) means that she's up early, by six. Bruce is another story, still asleep beside her, snoring at his usual volume. She slips out of bed and gets some breakfast, then starts up the laptop. As soon as she logs into her email, a chat window pops up.

_**Darcy Lewis:** Yooo, Skype?_

Jane sighs and types back, _sure_. She retrieves her headphones from the floor and plugs them, then fires up Skype and calls her.

“Hey!” Darcy says, when she pops up on the screen, “you're up early!”

“Yeah, I went to bed early last night. So how are you?”

Darcy smiles a little. “I'm good... Hey, what's that sound?”

“What sound?”

“I dunno, it sounds like a buzz saw or something.”

Jane glances over her shoulder at the partially open bedroom door. “Oh, it's... hang on.”

She pulls her headphones off and puts the laptop down on the couch, then walks over to the bedroom and leans in around the door. Bruce is lying on his side, mouth wide open and snoring like a buzz saw. She smiles and closes the door.

“Sorry,” she says, when she back on Skype, “they're doing construction outside.”

“Construction? I thought you were on the five hundredth floor or something?”

“Seventieth,” she corrects. “They're... on one of those... window cleaner things.”

Darcy nods as if she buys that explanation; Jane's surprised. “So, what's up with you, Dr Foster, I feel like I haven't talked to you in ages.”

“Yeah...” She feels like that because they haven't, really. She hasn't told Darcy and her mom about Bruce yet, and the easiest thing to do seemed to be just to avoid talking, especially after the whole Thor blow up. “I'm good. Working hard.”

“Well, I'm hardly working, so it balances out,” Darcy says. “You know, your apartment looks different. Or the patch of wall I get to see looks different, anyway.”

“Huh,” Jane says, schooling her features. “Weird. So, how's Mom?”

Darcy narrows her eyes a little, but lets it go. “Yeah, she's good. Actually me and Liz were thinking of coming out to New York soon.”

“Liz?”

“That's your mom.”

“Yes, I know that's my mother. When did you start calling her Liz?”

Darcy rolls her eyes. “Well, calling her Mrs Jane's mom was getting kind of awkward...”

Jane sighs. “So, the two of you are coming to New York?”

“Yep, in like three weeks' time.”

“Three weeks! Why didn't you tell me earlier?”

Darcy waves her hands at the screen. “Hey, man, maybe we're not even coming to see you! Maybe we're just coming to see _Wicked_ on Broadway a bunch of times.”

“Okay, okay, fine. Have you booked the flights yet?”

Darcy shakes her head. “Nah, Liz is looking at the best deals. She wants to buy the tickets with her air miles, if she can.”

“She's spending her air miles on you?”

Darcy shrugs. “I told her not to, but you know what your mom's like.”

Jane nods slowly. “I guess so, yeah...” It's not like her mom hasn't done stuff like that for Jane – she paid for her to come out to London, since Jane was broke – but she didn't think her mother even liked Darcy...

The bedroom opens and Bruce pads across the room in just his pyjama bottoms, getting almost to the kitchen before he realises she's sitting there. He turns and looks at her, scratching at his stubble, and she looks back as Darcy asks her if she's still paying attention. Thankfully Bruce didn't pass by the webcam when he came out.

“Um,” she says, then looks back down at the screen. “Sorry, someone's at the door. It's... about work, I think. I gotta go, I'll call you later, okay?”

“Oh, is it Thor?” Darcy teases, and Jane smiles tightly.

“I'll call you later,” she repeats.

“All right. Have fun with the 'science',” she says, making air quotes with her fingers.

“Goodbye, Darcy,” Jane says.

“Buh-bye,” Darcy replies, waving.

Jane waves back for a moment, before ending the call and closing the laptop lid.

“Hey,” she says, looking up at Bruce.

He puts his hands in his pockets and smiles. “Hey. You didn't have to stop talking to your friend because of me...”

“Nah, it's fine, I didn't really have anything to say, anyway.” She gets up and walks over to him, and he smiles as she leans up to kiss him. His skin is still warm from sleep as he wraps his arms around her. She likes this part a lot.

She pulls back after a minute and Bruce rubs his hands up and down her arms. “So, my mom and Darcy are going to be visiting in a couple of weeks.”

His eyebrows go up. “Oh. That's... nice?”

She pulls a face. “I mean, yeah, but it was short notice, you know?”

“Yeah... Do they... do you want me to...” He wrinkles his nose and tugs at his hair.

“Do they know about... us?” she says. 'Us'. It sounds so rom-com.

“Yeah...”

“No. I just...” She shrugs. “I'm sorry.”

“Hey, it's fine,” he says. “I can keep it professional.” He smiles crookedly, and he seems okay, but he's got to be offended, at least a little. She would be, if things were reversed.

She sighs and rests her chin on his shoulder. “I'll figure it out.”

He nods and tightens his arms around her. She stays there for a minute before something occurs to her. “Oh no,” she says.

“What?”

“Jenny.”

“Oh yeah.” He sighs and looks down at her. “Well, like you said, she probably won't say anything...”

She doesn't. In fact, she leaves a cup of tea on Jane's desk too, before hurrying to do her work. Jane calls out her thanks and takes a sip. It's actually not bad at all.

In the early afternoon, Tony comes in and starts hovering over the interns and freaking them out. Bruce rolls his eyes and ignores it, while Jane gets completely distracted by it and doesn't get any work done. Eventually, Tony wanders back over to them.

“Hey, Doctors, can we talk?”

“Uh, sure,” Bruce says, glancing back at Jane.

Tony gestures out into the hall, and they follow him out.

“So, I hear you closed up shop early yesterday,” Tony says.

“Yeah,” Bruce says, running his fingers through his hair. “Work was slow and I was tired...”

Tony smirks. “Not that tired, according to JARVIS. Look, I know the office furniture is pretty sexy, but could you refrain from fucking on it?”

Jane clenches her hands to fists at her sides. 

“ _Tony_ ,” Bruce says sharply. “That's incredibly inappropriate.”

“Yeah, well, so's having sex in the office,” Tony says. “I hate having to do this whole boss routine, but I shouldn't really have to tell you that.”

“We didn't have sex in the office,” she says in a low tone.

Tony arches an eyebrow. “But you gave it a good college try, Foster.”

She digs her fingernails into her palms and sets her jaw. “So, you use JARVIS to spy on us?”

“Spying is such an ugly word,” he says, with that insufferable perma-smirk on his face. Her hand itches to smack him, but she manages to keep them both at her sides, and instead does an about face and storms away, back into the lab.

“Jane?” Bruce calls, and then a moment later she hears him say, “what the fuck, Tony?” but by then she's already in the lab.

“Dr Foster?” Jenny says, moving towards her. “Can you--”

“Not now,” Jane snaps and slams into the thankfully empty kitchen.

She stands there for a second, breathing heavily, at a loss. There's a mug on the counter, just a plain white one, probably left out by one of the interns. She picks it up and looks at it for a moment, tests its weight, tosses it from hand to hand for a second, then hurls it across the room, where it smashes against the wall. There's a bright, instant rush of relief that lasts until she turns her head and sees Bruce standing in the doorway.

He blinks a couple of times, then steps into the room. Without a word he goes to a cupboard and gets out a dust pan, then kneels down by the shards.

That shakes her out of her trance. “Hey, no, I'll do that.”

“It's okay.”

“Bruce...” she murmurs, walking over to him.

“Be careful,” he says, as he picks up the larger shards and drops them in the pan.

She kneels down beside him and starts picking up pieces too. “I'm sorry,” she mutters.

“It's only a cup,” he says, smiling a little, and tries to wave her away from the cleaning up. “I'm sorry that Tony was being an asshole. He doesn't know any better.”

She shakes her head. “I shouldn't have freaked like that.”

Bruce smiles. “Believe me, that wasn't freaking out. I've levelled _entire towns_ while freaking out.”

She snorts and collects up more shards before he can bat her hands away. “I used to be able to do that, too,” she murmurs.

He looks at her, blinking at her with his big, soft eyes. “Let's go out and get something to eat,” he says, covering one of her hands with his own.

She looks down at the shattered pieces of ceramic on the floor and suddenly feels nauseous. The last thing she wants to do is go eat, but what else is she going to do, go back into the lab and get stared at by the interns some more?

“Okay,” she mutters.

They go to their usual Starbucks, and she gets a black coffee to try to settle her rolling stomach, though all that really happens is that the caffeine puts her even more on edge. Bruce doesn't say much, just picks at his muffin, watching the people passing by on the street with exaggerated interest.

She drinks her coffee without waiting for it to cool, so it burns her tongue and her throat on its way down. She twitches every time someone passes by them, going as far as to jump in her seat when someone accidentally brushes her shoulder on their way out. Bruce pretends to not notice.

“A large caramel flan latte, please,” someone says to the barista, and Bruce looks over his shoulder. 

“Hey, it's Pepper,” he says. He sounds relieved; relieved not to be alone with Jane any more.

Pepper looks over and spots them. She waves quickly and pays up before coming over. 

_Great_ , Jane thinks.

Pepper is dressed casually, in black leggings and a loose, yet fitted button down shirt. Her hair reaches the middle of her back, effortlessly tousled, and her skin is tanned despite the bitter winter New York has been through recently. She's very obviously taller than both Jane and Bruce even in her flats, and would probably measure up pretty well against Thor and Sif. She wouldn't look even slightly out of place in Asgard.

Pepper Potts is a woman in a way that makes Jane feel like a little girl.

“Doctors,” she says with a smile, “fancy meeting you here!”

Bruce smiles and makes easy conversation while Jane sits there and stares at her scuffed sneakers. She's met Pepper a handful of times, always in passing, and has absolutely nothing in common with her. Bruce and Pepper seem to have enough in common to chat animatedly, though. Jane turns back to her coffee. 

“Dr Foster, how's the lab treating you?” Pepper asks almost as soon as she turns away.

Jane tries to hide her twitch, and looks back at her. “It's great,” she says, straining her cheeks with a smile.

“I'm really glad, Tony's been excited to have you at Stark.” She says it with such a practised air of detached pleasantness that Jane can't tell if she means it or not, or if she knows about Jane and Bruce, or if she's aware of their run in with Tony not even two hours ago. Pepper is like a very pretty, closed book; Jane can't get anything out of it.

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Caramel latte for Peter,” the barista calls.

Pepper narrows her eyes.

“Peter?” the barista calls again.

“I think that's for you,” Bruce says.

Pepper sighs. “Once I got 'Peppermint'. They must have thought I was a Charlie Brown character.”

“You do have the right colour hair,” he says.

She rolls her eyes. “I'll be back in a minute.”

Bruce nods, and Jane scoots back round in her seat and stares at her coffee cup. Suddenly, the idea of drinking even one more sip makes her want to hurl.

“I'm going to go home and lie down,” she says, and slides out of her seat.

Bruce looks sort of alarmed and starts getting up. “Okay. Are you okay?”

“Sure,” she says with a shrug. “Look, don't come with me.”

He twitches and freezes, half out of his seat.

“I mean,” she hurries on, “just... it's okay. Talk to Pepper, I just... have a headache.”

“Are you sure, I could--”

“I'm sure,” she says, her voice sharply edged. Bruce settles back in his seat and doesn't meet her gaze. “Sorry, I didn't-- I just need to lie down.”

Bruce nods and smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. “Sure. I'll see you later.”

“Yeah,” she says, and pats him on the shoulder. She should stay and explain that's she's not trying to be a huge bitch, but she honestly doesn't think she'd be able to find the words, so she pats him on the shoulder again and leaves. Pepper sees her as she's mixing sugar into her drink and waves. Jane manages to wave back, then hurries out the door.

When she's back in the suite, she lies down on their tangle of unmade blankets and stares at the ceiling. She doesn't have a headache and she's not tired, but there's nothing else she wants to do, so eventually she falls asleep.

-

They barely say anything to each other once Bruce comes back to the suite at eight. Or, more accurately, she barely says anything to him. He offers to make her supper, but she's not hungry; he asks her what she wants to watch on TV, but she doesn't care; he asks if she'd like him to run her a bath, but she doesn't want one. Eventually he gives up, she can see it in his eyes, and goes to bed. She's not tired after her afternoon nap, so she sits curled up on the couch and browses the internet. Darcy's posted an excited entry on Facebook about going to New York and Jane thinks about liking it, but doesn't. She clicks through some of Darcy's photo albums instead, one of which is entitled 'Thor's Big Day Out'.

She remembers the day, a couple of weeks after everything settled down, before her insomnia started. They went to Buckingham Palace and Trafalgar Square and a bunch of museums, and Thor asked incessant questions about the royal family and the dinosaurs and the Apollo 13. It felt like a good day at the time, though long and tiring, but now when she looks at the pictures of the two of them smiling beside a Beefeater, she can't shake the thought that she looked unhappy, even then. It's something in her eyes, she thinks.

Or maybe she's just nuts.

By the time she resurfaces from the internet, it's two AM. She's still not tired and as she looks around the apartment, the normally comforting clutter starts to feel suffocating. She shoves her laptop onto the coffee table and stands up. She stays like that for a moment, clenching and unclenching her fists, then takes a breath and grabs her keycard.

She manages enough forethought to close the front door quietly when she leaves, then heads to the elevator and asks JARVIS to take her up to the roof.

It's cold outside and her skin immediately comes up in goose pimples, but she ignores it and walks over to the railings to peer over. It is a _long_ way down...

She takes a deep breath and looks out at the city. It's a beautiful place, busy and frenetic even in the middle of the night; it soothes her jangled nerves a little, to look out at a city that feels just as crazy as she is.

The door out to the roof creaks open. She looks over her shoulder and sees Bruce standing there, wearing a coat over his pyjamas. She looks back out at the city.

He comes over and stands beside her, resting his hands on the railing.

“Did you ask JARVIS where I was?” she asks, then cringes at her tone. Fuck, why is she being such a bitch today?

“I just guessed,” he says.

“Oh,” she says. The cold night is starting to settle in now, and she doesn't manage to tamp down on a shiver. Without a word, Bruce takes his coat off and drapes it around her shoulders. For second she considers telling him she's fine, but pulls the coat closer around herself instead.

Bruce bites his lip. “I wasn't flirting with Pepper,” he says softly.

She flinches and finally looks up at him. “Oh God,” she says, and Bruce frowns at her. “God, no, don't...” She shakes her head and rests a hand on his side. Bruce turns towards her, still frowning. “I know you weren't, I'm not... I don't want to be that person who gets jealous when their boyfriend talks to another woman. I swear to God, just put me out of my misery if I start doing that.”

Bruce smiles at her, and she belatedly realises that she just called him her boyfriend. She briefly considers clarifying that she meant it in a general sense, but it seems mean to take it back... or whatever... as soon as she's said it, so she lets it go.

“I'm sorry I freaked out before,” she says instead.

Bruce pulls a face. “It was only a cup,” he says, and wraps his arms around her.

“Mm,” she hums. “I guess.”

“I've broken _lots_ of crockery in my life,” he says, burying his nose in her hair.

She leans her weight against him and slips her hands underneath his top to warm them. “You always say that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it hasn't become clear yet, this is going to be a _long_ fic.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to (tentatively) set the number of chapters at twelve. This may change, but probably not by much.

Her mom and Darcy fly into New York in the early morning a few weeks later. Jane meets them at the airport and goes to the hotel with them – her mom vetoed the idea of staying at Stark Tower that Jane vaguely suggested but not really. Darcy seemed pretty pissed about that, but Jane is grateful that her mom never accepts favours that she can't pay back – having the two of them sleeping in the same building as Jane and her secret... lover would make everything exponentially worse. They both want to sleep off the jet lag, so Jane goes back to work and doesn't plan to see the two of them until the next morning.

“Why don't you just take the day off?” Bruce says as he's getting dressed. She's sitting on the bed putting her socks on, and his side is turned to her so that she can see the end of his scar on his hip. He's pulling on his shirt but gets tangled in one of the sleeves and flaps his arm uselessly. “Help?” he adds.

She laughs and gets off the bed to help. “You've got the shirt all twisted up.”

“Thanks,” he says, as she straightens it out for him. “It would probably help if I hung my clothes up...”

“Probably.”

He nods and starts buttoning up the shirt. “Take the day off.”

“Nah, I'm fine,” she says, sitting back down on the bed.

“Don't you want to spend time with them?”

“I've got time, they're here for two weeks. And I've got stuff I want to work on today, anyway.” Well, it's not exactly a lie – she doesn't _not_ want to work on her research.

“Uh huh,” Bruce murmurs, eyeing her. “Are you sure you're not just anxious about--”

“Bruce,” she says, sharper than she intended. His eyes flicker and she clears her throat. “It's fine, okay?”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

She crosses her arms in her lap and lapses into silence for a minute as Bruce fusses with his shirt. It's his nice yellow shirt, which he never wears to the lab.

“Why are you wearing your fancy shirt?”

He glances round at her. “Should I not?”

“I'm not saying that...”

Bruce furrows his brow adorably. “I just thought it'd be a change from looking like a slob...”

She leans forward and swats at him. “You don't look like a slob. Are you dressing up to impress my mother?”

“No...” he says, looking at his feet.

She smiles and gets up to kiss him. “It looks great.”

He smiles back and leans in to her. “Loose or tucked in?”

“Tucked in,” she says. She feels bad that he's making all this effort when she still hasn't told Mom and Darcy about him or even decided what to do about it yet, but instead of talking about it with him, she just pulls his shirt back out when he tucks it into his pants.

“What?”

“You're doing it wrong,” she says, and when he frowns she tugs at his shirt. “Maybe you should, uh, take it all off and start again...”

-

Mom and Darcy come over to visit the lab in the afternoon, despite Jane offering to take them out somewhere nice for lunch. Mom says she wants to see Erik too, and Jane figures Darcy just wants to snoop.

Bruce busies himself with work all morning before they arrive, freaking out all the interns with his increased participation in the lab. At two, they arrive and Bruce promptly knocks a beaker off a table and has all the interns freeze for a second. When they walk in the lab, he's kneeling on the floor, picking up the glass.

“Whoa, fancy,” Darcy says, looking around. “Even I can tell that this is some seriously fancy science shit.”

“Thanks,” she says, and turns to her mom. “So, this is the lab. Erik's not here yet, but he should be around.” She fails to mention that Erik is often not at work and she doesn't know where he goes in his absences. And that she hasn't done much to find out.

Mom looks around with raised eyebrows. “It's a lot nicer than anywhere your father worked, that's for sure.”

Bruce finishes brushing up the glass and walks over to them. He stands there silently for a moment, glancing at Jane.

She turns to him and almost reaches out to take his fidgeting hand, but thinks better of it at the last moment. “This is Bruce, my, uh... colleague.”

Her mom leans forward to shake his hand. “Hi.”

“Hello,” he says, still fidgeting. He shakes Darcy's hand too, then shoves his hands into his pockets. “Um, how was your flight?”

“ _Long_ ,” Darcy says, rolling her eyes. “I wish I could travel by Norse god like Jane here.”

“Oh... yeah,” he says, smiling slightly.

“Shit, was I not supposed to say that?” Darcy asks, widening her eyes.

“No, it's fine,” she says. “Bruce knows...”

“Yeah...” Bruce murmurs. “So, uh... Hey, I'm going to get some lunch from Starbucks, do you want anything?”

“Uh, sure,” she says. “Thanks.”

“Ham and swiss, and a hazelnut frappuccino?”

She glances at Mom and Darcy, who both look kind of amused, then smiles at Bruce. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Would you two like anything?” he asks them.

Neither of them want anything, so he stands there awkwardly for a moment before heading out of the lab. A minute later he comes back and gets something out of his desk drawer. “Wallet,” he says, smiling sheepishly.

Darcy watches him go, then looks at Jane and raises her eyebrows. “That's the guy I googled, isn't it? He's even cuter in real life.”

“Uh huh,” Jane says, walking back over to her desk. She glances up in time to see her mom give her a look, but she ignores it.

“So, tell us about your work and we'll pretend we understand,” Mom says.

Twenty minutes later, Bruce comes back with a few brown bags in hand. Jane is explaining renewable energy to Darcy and her mother has left to have lunch with Erik, who amazingly managed to put in an appearance at the lab at the exact right time.

“Hey, they had those cookies you like so I got you guys some...” He looks around and frowns as he sets down her drink. “Where's your mom?”

“Oh, she left with Erik.”

“Oh,” he mutters.

“Just have one yourself.”

He scratches the back of his head and smiles. “Okay. I got your sandwich, too.”

She takes the bag off him and smiles back. “Thanks. What did you get for yourself?”

“Uh...”

She tuts and pulls the remaining brown bag from his hand. “You bought rabbit food again, didn't you?” She pulls the plastic box out of the bag and sighs. “ _Bruce_ , it's a boiled egg and a couple of slices of cheese. It's not lunch.”

“I gotta stay trim somehow...”

“Bruce!”

He grins and takes the box back. “Anyway, how'll I ever become a middle-aged hipster if I don't buy overpriced food from Starbucks?”

She rolls her eyes and shoos him away.

“Gimme a cookie first,” he says, holding out his hand.

She hands the cookie over and pushes him away. He sticks the cookie in his mouth and wanders back to his desk. Darcy shoves Jane's arm.

“What?” she says.

“Dude,” Darcy begins. Jane hates being called 'dude'. “Dude, you're at, like, FLIRTCON one with that guy!”

“Flirt what?”

“It's like DEFCON one but with slightly less death and destruction.”

“We weren't flirting, we're just friends.”

“Uh huh. That guy,” Darcy says, and points to him. Jane pushes her hand down and thankfully Bruce doesn't notice anything. “Wants to be _all_ up in your panties.”

Jane throws Darcy the most dismissive look she can muster – Darcy can be a frighteningly good judge of character sometimes. “That's disgusting. We're just friends.”

“He knows your entire Starbucks order and bought you treats _and_ wasn't buying lunch for anyone else in the lab.”

“He offered to get you and Mom something.”

Darcy waves a hand. “Only because we were standing right there.”

Jane huffs. “Look, we just go to Starbucks together sometimes. It's not like my order is that complicated.”

“Yeah but guys never remember stuff like that unless they've got ulterior motives.”

“Bruce isn't like other guys,” Jane says, almost reflexively, then clears her throat.

Darcy tips her head to one side and raises her eyebrows.

“Look,” Jane says, raising her finger. “Look, I'll eat my lunch and finish up some work and then we can go shopping or something, _if_ you stop hassling me.”

Darcy rolls her eyes and spins around in the desk chair she's sitting in. “Yes, Mom.”

-

She has dinner with her mother and Darcy after work, but manages to be back home by eight-thirty by claiming she has pressing research she has to do. If there's one excuse that people will always believe of her, it's an obsessive work ethic. Her mother pulls her aside as they leave the restaurant and asks her if she's okay, and Jane oddly feels like she might cry, but brushes the question off anyway.

Bruce is on the phone when she gets back into the apartment, laughing about something. When she closes the door, he looks around quickly, his smile fading a little.

“Hey, I gotta go,” he says down the phone. “Yeah. Yeah, I'll talk to you soon. Bye.” He ends the call and clears his throat, not quite holding her gaze.

She feels like she's missing something. “Hey,” she says, “who was on the phone?”

“Um.” He looks at the phone in his hand. “Betty...”

“Oh,” she says.

“Uh, she just called to tell me about an alumni reunion at Culver...”

“Oh,” she says again. “Are you going to go to it?”

He snorts. “God no, those are the last people in the world I want to see again.”

She smiles and takes her coat and shoes off and comes round to sit on the couch. “Yeah, I've never gone to a reunion either.”

Bruce nods and glances at her, then drops his phone on the coffee table. He seems twitchier than normal.

“Hey,” she says, reaching out and lacing her fingers through his. “I haven't got a problem with you talking to Betty, you know.”

“Okay,” he says, tone uncertain. She rolls her eyes and he smiles. “How was dinner?”

She sighs and curls up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “It was fine. Anything good on TV?”

They go to bed a couple of hours later, having spoken very little but stayed cuddled up together on the couch. They kiss a bit after they get into bed, but she doesn't feel up to anything else, and Bruce doesn't seem to mind.

She rolls over onto her side to look at him. “You were so nervous with my mom earlier, it was cute.”

He turns onto his side too and she can make out a slight smile on his face in the dim light. “Well, I normally make really devastatingly bad impressions on people, so...”

She frowns. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugs. “A lot of people find me off-putting.”

“What?” she repeats. “That's ridiculous! I didn't find you 'off-putting' when we first met!”

“Well...” He rubs his fingers over his mouth. “I try really, really hard to act normal. I try really hard around you.”

“Act?”

“Yeah...” He rubs his hand over his face and sighs. “When you... uh, grow up like me you...” He trails off and bites his lip for a moment. “You have to learn how to be a human...”

She reaches down to find his hand, twining their fingers together. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... When you're used to such intense dysfunction, you don't know how to do anything. It's not like being socially awkward, although clearly I am, it's... just not knowing how to react to anything. It's having to stop and think, 'am I being too aggressive, am I being too submissive, are _they_ being too aggressive, are they happy, am I happy, am I making the right facial expression, am I saying the right thing' _all the time_. And even if you manage to learn how to do all that successfully, you still always feel like a... like an alien with a human face...” 

She squeezes his hand tighter. “Is that how you feel?”

He sucks his lips into his mouth for a moment, then nods. “Yeah. It went away for a while, when I was in my early thirties. Betty...” He rubs at his face and sighs again. “I was just incredibly strange before I met Betty. But since Hulk, god, I feel even more like an alien than ever.”

“I'm sorry.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “It's okay, I'm used to it.”

“Do you still have to put on an act around me?”

He shifts a little and licks his lips. “Yeah.”

“Really?”

Her eyes have adjusted to the dark room enough to make out his face pretty clearly now. He looks nervous.

“It's not... it's not you, it's just, I have to be aware of myself, especially around people I care about. It's tiring, but the alternatives are... personally devastating.”

“Hulk?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Me. I'm probably a lot worse than Hulk could ever hope to be.”

She squeezes his fingers and shoves him lightly with her free hand. “Don't say that.”

He smiles. “Sorry. You know, it's not like... I'm trying to deceive you, or anything, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, of course, I do. Of course,” she says, shifting in a little closer. Bruce watches her through half-lidded eyes and smiles again. “Hey,” she adds, bringing their connected hands to her chest. “I'm going to tell them.”

“Tell...?” He raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah. There's no reason not to tell them, it's stupid to hide it.” And it must be hurting his feelings, she thinks. If he really feels like he's not really a person, then her acting like their relationship is a secret, that she's ashamed of him or something, is only going to make that worse. “I'm not... embarrassed of this, you know.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, “if you're sure.”

“I am,” she says, and shuffles in to kiss him.

-

She leaves work early the next day to have lunch with Mom and Darcy. Bruce follows her to the elevator and kisses her while no one's watching.

“Hey, if it goes well, maybe we should all go out to dinner tonight.”

“Maybe,” she says, and pats him on the shoulder. “I'll be back in a couple of hours.”

They meet in a somewhat fancy coffee shop at one, fancy enough to have tables free in the lunch rush hour.

“So, what have you two been doing?” she asks them.

“ _Shopping_ ,” Darcy says, kicking at the bags nestled under the table. “So, so much shopping.”

Jane smiles and falls quiet for a minute as the waitress brings over their food.

“So, how was work?” Mom asks.

“It's... fine, uh...” Jane rubs at the back of her neck and clears her throat. Why does she feel so awkward about this? She's a grown woman. “I have something to tell you guys.”

Mom nods as if she was expecting it. “Has something happened?”

“Yeah, um, I guess. It's not a bad thing, though, uh...” She takes a breath. “I'm... me and, me and Bruce are dating,” she finally manages to get out.

“Whoa, what?” Darcy says, eyebrows sky-rocketing. “Curly haired science guy?”

Jane blinks. “Yeah, curly haired science guy.”

Darcy sits back in her chair dramatically. “Damn. I should have seen it with all the flirting. I guess I figured it was mostly one-sided...”

“Well... it's not.”

“How long have you been dating?” Mom asks.

“Uh, six weeks. But we were friends a couple of months before that...”

Darcy frowns. “Didn't Thor come visit you six weeks ago?”

“Yeah...”

“When did you and Thor stop being a thing? Did you...?” Darcy frowns and trails off.

“No!” Jane exclaims. “I didn't _cheat_ on Thor!”

“So, what happened?” Mom asks.

“I...” Jane sighs and drags her hands through her hair. She really didn't want this to get dragged up all over again. “Thor visited me and I just realised... that I wasn't happy with the way everything was. I got really, really angry, and then really, really upset, and... Bruce was there.”

Mom nods slowly. “So, you were very upset, and then you started dating Bruce?”

“I--” Jane huffs and scowls. “If you're trying to say that he took advantage, then he didn't. It was mutual and then everything just... grew from there. I felt like, with Thor... I felt like I was losing myself. I don't feel like that with Bruce. At all.” She shrugs.

“Mm-hm,” Mom murmurs.

Jane sets her jaw. “Bruce thinks we should have dinner tonight, the four of us.”

Mom's eyebrows go up a little. “Really?”

“Yeah. Look, if it's not convenient--”

“We'll come!” Darcy says, and then glances at Mom. “Right, Liz?”

Mom looks back at her for a moment, then nods. “Sure. I'd like to meet him properly.”

The rest of the lunch is tense, and Jane eats her food as quick as she can to have an excuse to leave. When she gets back to the lab, she heads straight for the kitchen and Bruce follows.

“How did it go?” he asks.

She shrugs. “It was okay. They said they'd like to go to dinner tonight.”

“Okay, good.” He tips his head to one side. “It is good, isn't it? 'Cause you don't seem very happy.”

“It's good,” she says, and tries to smile reassuringly.

Bruce scrunches up the corner of his mouth and nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoes, then after a second's thought, steps closer and wraps her arms around him.

He hugs her back, tight, and kisses the top of her head. He's always such a good hugger. “I'll try to be normal with Darcy and your mom this time.”

“It's not you I'm worried about,” she says.

-

She picks an Italian restaurant, one that they won't have to make reservations for, and wears jeans and her favourite plaid shirt. Bruce wears the yellow shirt yet again.

“I'm going to have to buy you new clothes,” she says, giving it a tug as they stand outside the restaurant, waiting for Mom and Darcy. “When's your birthday?”

“December 18th,” he says.

“Your birthday's in December? I missed it by that much,” she says, holding her index finger and thumb a millimetre apart.

He shrugs. “My birthday isn't something I'm particularly fond of.”

“Well...” She looks up at him thoughtfully. “I'll just give you a plaid shirt when you least expect it, then.”

He laughs. “Deal.”

“Come here,” she says, and reaches up to kiss him. It's only a chaste kiss but when she pulls away, of course, Darcy and Mom are standing there in front of them.

“Hey,” she says, clearing her throat.

“Hey,” Darcy says, wiggling her eyebrows.

“It's... nice to see you again, Dr Banner,” Mom says, holding out her hand.

Bruce shakes her hand and smiles. “Call me Bruce, please.”

“You can call me Liz.”

“And you can call me Darcy!” Darcy pipes up.

“Hi, Darcy,” he says, shaking her hand as well.

“Why don't we go inside?” Jane says, interrupting all the awkward greetings. She hooks her elbow around Bruce's and steers him towards the doors. Darcy and Mom go ahead of them and Bruce wipes his hands on his pants.

“My hands were kind of sweaty,” he mumbles.

“Don't worry,” she murmurs back, as the waiter asks if it's a table for four. Jane orders a glass of wine before they're even seated.

“So, Bruce...” Darcy sets her hands on the table. “You're a physicist, too, right?”

“Yeah, nuclear physics.”

“And you went to Harvard _and_ Culver, just like Jane did.”

Bruce glances at Jane for a moment, then nods. “Yeah...”

“I googled you,” Darcy explains. “Apparently you disappeared off the face of the Earth for, like, six years.”

Bruce swallows and starts fidgeting his hands in his lap. “Yeah, I was... self-discovery, you know?”

“What did you discover?” Mom asks.

“Uh... that I'm pretty bad at everything except science...”

Mom nods, and Jane can tell that she's just working herself up into a longer line of questioning. Thankfully, the waiter arrives with the wine and Jane takes a swig of it before her mother can continue.

Mom looks at her funny for a moment, then back at Bruce.

“So, how old are you, Bruce?”

Bruce shifts in his seat and runs his fingers through the white and grey hair at his temples. Jane sets her jaw. “Um, forty four...”

“What a coincidence, I'm fifty four,” Mom says.

“Mom!” Jane snaps.

“Hey, Thor was, like, a thousand years older than Jane, so...” Darcy murmurs.

Jane takes another generous drink from her glass.

“And you're friends with Tony Stark, I've heard?” Mom says. Heard from Darcy, Jane figures. The daughter she never had.

“Yeah, we, uh... met through mutual friends a couple of years ago... He offered me a position at Stark, which I'm really grateful for because I would've had trouble finding a job, after my... absence.”

“Nice of him,” Mom says. “And you're... Jane's boss.”

“Mom,” Jane warns over her wine glass.

Bruce glances at her then back at her mother. “Well, technically, but the lab's pretty... casual.”

“But you do run it, yes?”

“Yeah...”

“Okay, that's it,” Jane says, drinking the last of her wine quickly and standing up.

“Jane?” Bruce says, looking up at her.

“I get what you're trying to imply, okay? And I really don't want to hear it.”

“Jane, c'mon,” Darcy says, “we're not trying to upset you...”

“I'm not upset,” she replies, bending to grab her bag from the floor, “I'm leaving,” she informs Bruce calmly.

She doesn't wait for his answer, just turns and walks away, picking up speed as she nears the door. Footsteps follow behind.

“Hey...” Bruce murmurs, catching up to her on the street outside the restaurant. She starts waving her hand for a taxi. “Maybe you should come back inside...?”

“I'm not going back in,” she says without even looking back at him.

“Okay.”

A taxi pulls up to the curb and she wrenches the door open and gets in. Only after she's in the back seat does she look around at Bruce, who's still standing there on the sidewalk, looking concerned.

“Get in,” she says.

He hurries into the car and closes the door, and Jane tells the driver to take them to Stark Tower, just as Mom and Darcy come out of the restaurant.

“Jane...?” Bruce murmurs.

She sniffs and looks out of the opposite window, and the driver takes off. They sit in silence in the cab for a few minutes.

“They didn't offend me, you know,” Bruce says eventually. “They were just... questions.”

She keeps looking ahead, though she can see Bruce fidgeting in her periphery. “Well, they offended _me_.”

“Yeah... How, um, how old are you? I've never thought to ask before.”

She looks at him. “I'm thirty one.” Bruce blinks and his brow crinkles up a bit. “Why, did you think I was older?”

“No, no, I... I mean I guess I never thought about it, but if I had, I guess I would have figured that you were younger. You look... younger, your twenties or something...”

“Bruce, you don't have to flatter me, I'm not angry with you.” She takes a breath and covers his hand with hers. “I'm not angry at you.”

He nods and smiles. “Okay. Are you hungry?”

“ _Starving_ ,” she says.

They go to a pizza place near the tower and buy a large pepperoni to share. Bruce unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and rolls up his sleeves in an effort to make himself look more casual.

“You look good with your shirt sleeves rolled up,” she says. She reaches out and rubs her fingers against the soft, dark hair on his arm.

He raises his eyebrows at her and smiles. “This is my most expensive shirt by far, I don't wanna get it greasy.”

“Well, it's very attractive too,” she says. 

Bruce twists his mouth and looks down at his half of the pizza. She kicks at his foot under the table.

“It's a little late to get shy on me now.”

“Mm,” he hums, and digs into the pizza.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, both getting grease and sauce stains on their shirts. Jane swings her feet a little, knocking them into his, and he smiles to himself as he eats. She briefly considers playing footsy with him, but figures he might find that kind of embarrassing.

“Jane?” he says after a while, wiping his fingers clean on a napkin.

“Yeah?”

“I think... you overreacted a little with your mom and Darcy.” He purses his lips as he finishes, and looks at her slightly nervously.

She looks out the window and sighs, then looks back at him. “Yeah, maybe...”

Bruce's expression clears and he sits forward. “I'm kind of surprised that they haven't called you yet.”

“Oh, they probably have, I turned my phone off in the cab...”

“That'd do it,” he says, and presses his foot into hers. “Maybe you should turn it back on?”

“Maybe later,” she says, returning to her pizza. As ever, Bruce doesn't push it.

By the time they get back to the apartment, she still hasn't turned her phone on. She tosses it onto the couch, and Bruce glances at it for a moment, then starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“I'm gonna try to get these stains out before they set.”

“Hey, can you do mine too?” she asks.

“Sure.”

She strips off her shirt and gives it to him and he walks to the kitchen and grabs a couple of different sprays from under the sink and gets to work. With his bare back to her, she has an unimpeded view of his scar. It looks painful and jagged and strangely stretched out, which she guesses isn't surprising – when she thinks of how tiny he must have been when he got it... 

She thinks it's probably a big deal that he lets her see it like this, though since the day she first saw it, he's pretty much acts like it no longer exists. Then again, she frequently pretends that she isn't losing her fucking mind, so who's she to judge?

She walks up to him and wraps her arms around him. He tenses for a second, then relaxes. She kisses his shoulder, where there are smaller scars. They pass for old acne scars, and that's what she thought they were until Bruce informed her quietly one night that they were from cigarette burns. Nothing more was said about it after that.

She peers over his shoulder at the shirts. “Wow, you're good at getting stains out.”

“Once you learn how to get blood out, everything else is pretty simple,” he says.

“Oh,” she murmurs.

He stops scrubbing and turns his head to look at her. “Sorry, I didn't mean to be that depressing.”

She smiles and presses her nose into his skin. “It's fine,” she says, muffled into his back.

“Dr Foster, Mrs Foster and Ms Lewis request your presence,” JARVIS says.

She sighs and drops her forehead to Bruce's shoulder.

“You should talk to them,” Bruce says.

“Yeah...” she mutters and pulls away from him. “JARVIS, let them up. I'm gonna put on a shirt, you want one, Bruce?”

“Thanks,” he says.

She dresses in an old t-shirt and grabs a sweater off the floor for Bruce. It's dark green vee neck, and he didn't seem to like it that much when he told her that Tony went through a phase of buying him only green clothing, but since she told him she liked it on him, he's been wearing it more and more.

She considers tidying the living room up as Bruce rinses out the shirts, but decides to leave it. If they're offended by some clutter, then she honestly doesn't care.

A couple of minutes later, there's a knock at the door and she reluctantly goes to answer it.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hello,” Mom says, raising her eyebrows. “Can we come in?”

“Sure,” she says, stepping aside.

“We tried your suite first, but obviously you weren't there,” Darcy says.

“Yeah.”

Darcy raises her eyebrows teasingly, then looks around the living room. “Well, this place is... homey.”

“Are you feeling better now?” Mom asks, sparing a second for a pile of coats draped over the couch.

“Sure.”

“I think you can do better than one word answers, sweetheart.”

Jane huffs and looks over at the kitchen door as Bruce comes out.

“Hi again,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” Mom says, and after a second adds, “I might have come off a little... strident, I hope I didn't offend you.”

He shakes his head and smiles. “You didn't, I understand.”

“I don't,” Jane says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, I think we got that,” Darcy mutters.

Bruce glances at her, then at Jane, shifting from foot to foot. “I'm gonna... go do the laundry,” he says. 

“Don't put your shirt in the washing machine with everything else,” she calls as he heads to the laundry room, then turns back to them. “So.”

“Can we talk without someone walking out?” Mom asks.

Jane sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Sure, let's sit down.”

She clears some books and pens and Bruce's spare pair of glasses off the couch, and leans against the armrest as they sit.

“So...” Darcy says, twirling her hair between her fingers. “He's cute.”

Jane snorts. “He is.” 

“He seems like a nice man,” Mom offers.

“Yeah, he is, he's... he listens to me. I think you know that I wasn't happy when I left London, I felt... hopeless. I know Thor didn't mean to, but I felt so... inadequate. And angry. Really angry.”

“I think you're still pretty angry,” Darcy says.

“Maybe,” she mutters and looks at her mom. “Do you have anything to add?”

She shrugs. “I think he's too old for you and you're rebounding, but if you're happier than you were before, then of course I'm happy about that.”

“Right.”

“You've moved in here with him, haven't you?”

“Yeah.”

She sighs. “Jane, you know you always rush into relationships. You moved in with Don after two months of dating.”

Jane crosses her arms over her chest. “I didn't like my room mate.”

“And then you broke up with him when he proposed to you.”

“And? You hated him! He wanted me to 'settle down' and have babies with him!” She waves her hands as she speaks, though she's not sure why she's even getting angry; Don was so long ago now, he's just an unfortunate blip in her history of disappointing relationships.

“I think your mom means you have form,” Darcy says, grimacing a little.

Jane stands up abruptly and drags her fingers through her hair. “Yeah, I figured out the subtext, thanks. Maybe you should...” God, she feels like she's going to explode. “Go. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Jane...” Mom murmurs.

“Can you just go, okay?” she snaps.

Mom purses her lips. “Okay.”

Jane shoos them to the door, blocking out Darcy's inane comments so that she doesn't take her head off, and trying to bite back the building pressure inside her.

“Jane,” Mom tries again.

“We'll talk tomorrow, okay? Bye,” she says, and closes the door in their faces. She's never been quite that rude to her mother or any of her friends before, but that's the least of her concerns at the moment.

She hears Bruce's soft footsteps as he comes back into the room, and she starts walking towards him. “Did you put the laundry on?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you hear everything?”

He blinks. “Some.”

She nods as she reaches him. She looks up at him for a moment, then curls a hand around the back of his neck and kisses him roughly. He grunts and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her against him, and she runs her other hand through his hair and grasps tightly at the strands, pressing her tongue into his mouth.

“Bedroom,” she mutters, and knots her fingers in his sweater to lead him there. Bruce is thankfully amenable to this, because she's either having sex right now or going to scare the shit out of some birds on the roof. 

She pulls his sweater off and starts kissing down his chest. Bruce rolls his hips up and she reaches down and unbuttons his pants as she presses kisses to his skin. She tugs them down a couple of inches, but he isn't even half hard yet, so she reaches back up and starts kissing him again.

He curls his fingers into her hair and his stubble rasps against her chin as she deepens the kiss. His body is kind of vibrating beneath her, she can feel him shift, sliding his legs against the sheets, humming a little as they kiss.

She pulls away after a few minutes, and reaches over to the night stand. Bruce watches silently, save for some grunts, as she retrieves the condom and tears the packaging open. She leans over him for moment and presses one more hard kiss to his mouth before getting to work.

She grabs hold of his hips as she rocks against him and grips hard. She can feel the edge of his scar under her fingertips and she lingers on it for a second before sliding her hands higher, where the scar curves back towards his spine and disappears.

Bruce doesn't have great stamina, even after weeks of regular sex, so a couple of minutes later he's tipping his head back against the pillows and groaning, and she isn't anywhere near coming.

She presses her fingers against her clit and rubs as hard and fast as she can, but it just doesn't do the trick, and she growls in frustration.

“Sorry...” Bruce mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

“It's not your fault,” she says. She buries her fingers deeper, but that just hurts. “God-fucking-damnit,” she growls.

“Jane,” he says, then slides his hand up her thigh and gives it a shake. “Jane.”

“ _What_?” she snaps.

“I can...” He blinks at her. “I can... oral,” he gets out. A few weeks ago they established that she absolutely hates giving head, but he loves it.

“Oh,” she says, the pressure inside her dulling for a moment. “Okay. How do you want to... do it?”

He bites his lip. “Come up here.”

She gets off him and, after a moment's confusion, straddles his shoulders. Bruce wraps his hands around her thighs and presses his tongue against her clit.

“Oh,” she groans, and presses her forehead to the wall.

Bruce clutches harder at her thighs and presses his tongue deeper and she groans, thumping her hand against the wall. It's not long before Bruce finds his rhythm and the tight, crazy feeling in her chest dissolves as her orgasm builds. She smacks her hand against the wall again and whines and huffs and Bruce makes a high-pitched noise and she's undone.

She yells something incoherent and it takes her a couple of seconds to realise that she might be suffocating him. She awkwardly gets off him and collapses onto the bed, limbs all jelly-like. Bruce wipes at his face with the back of his hand and a shudder goes through her.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice coming out rough.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, sounding kind of far away.

She tips her head back and looks at the clock on her night stand – fifteen minutes have passed. She still has her t-shirt on and Bruce's pants are around his knees, socks still on. She didn't even bother to take the condom off him before she sat on his face. 

She starts giggling and finds she can't control it. Bruce rolls over to look at her. “What?” he says, amusement clear in his voice.

She covers her face and shakes her head, and feels Bruce tugs her towards him. She curls into his chest and giggles a bit longer, while he runs his fingers through her hair.

Eventually she settles back down, breathing slow and deep to calm herself down.

“You feel better than before?” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” she says, and wipes a hand over her face. “Uh, sorry, by the way.”

“What for?”

She lifts a shoulder. “You know... jumping you in the hallway,” she mutters, her cheeks starting to warm.

Bruce snorts and kisses her forehead. “At the risk of becoming a stereotype, you really don't have to apologise for that.”

She smiles and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “So, you heard what Mom said, huh?”

“Yeah...”

“I'm not rebounding,” she says, with as much surety as she can, despite feeling very little of it.

Bruce nods slowly. “It's okay if you are,” he says softly.

“But I'm not,” she says, curling her hand around his arm.

He blinks and a slow smile lights up his face. Jane gets a weird feeling in her gut.

“We should probably wash up...” she murmurs.

He bites his lip and nods. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”


	9. Chapter 9

She doesn't hear from Mom and Darcy for a couple of days, aside from one text message from Mom telling her, again, that she didn't mean to upset her. Jane replies with a brief message saying she's fine and going to be busy with work for a few days.

She isn't. She's mostly twiddling her thumbs and slowly writing out equations. She spends a lot of time in the kitchen, grazing on food, and a lot of time sitting on Bruce's desk, going over work.

“Hey,” she says, knocking her hand against his knee, “I'm going to get something from the kitchen, do you want anything?”

“I'm good,” he says.

She taps him on the knee again before heading to the kitchen. There's nothing healthy to choose from, so she gets a bag of chips from the cupboard and a coke from the fridge and, after a moment's thought, a chocolate bar for Bruce.

“Jane,” Erik says from the door, “can I talk to you?”

“Uh...” She turns to the door and looks at him. She hasn't seen him in days. “Sure.”

He steps into the room and fixes her with one of his serious professorial faces. “Your mother tells me that you and Bruce are dating.”

“Oh yeah?” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I had a feeling something was going on.”

She nods, sucking on her teeth. 

“Did you cheat on Thor?”

She tenses up, gritting her teeth. “How can you even ask me that? What the fuck are you...” She trails off and purses her lips. “It's none of your business,” she grinds out.

“Maybe it's not, but your mother is worried. She said you were angry.”

Jane doesn't respond, knowing she'll freak out if she does. Not that she's not going to freak out anyway. 

Erik sighs and shakes his head. “He's too old for you,” he says. “And too unstable.”

She snorts with ugly laughter. “Oh, _that's_ rich. I bet you're being paid even more than me, and how often do you come to work? Once a week, if that? You run around naked, you barely say more than a few words to me at a time and then you think it's okay to fucking interrogate me?”

Her voice has got steadily louder as she speaks and Erik winces. “I'm aware of the irony, but I'm still--”

“What?” she yells. “My father? Because you're not.”

“I know I'm not, but I'm still your friend and I'm still allowed to be concerned about you.”

“Really? Who says you're allowed to be concerned? I didn't give you permission, I didn't say you and Mom and Darcy could trade notes behind my back!” She draws breath to keep yelling, but hears footsteps at the door.

“What the hell do you want?” she shouts, turning her head as she speaks, only realising it's Bruce standing there once she's finished shouting. 

His eyes go round and he presses his lips together, moving his hands together to fidget with them. “Uh, sorry,” he says.

She swallows heavily and looks at the floor. “I didn't...” She sighs and rubs her hands over her face. “I've gotta-- go,” she mumbles.

She hurries out the door, trying not to touch Bruce as she passes by him, instead pressing her back to the frame and edging out. 

“Jane?” he says, brushing his fingers against her arm.

“I'm just going to go for a walk,” she mutters, forcing herself not to flinch away from him.

Bruce scrunches up his eyebrows. “Do you want me to--”

“I just need some time alone,” she says over him, collecting up her phone and keys in full view of the interns, who are all watching her and obviously heard every word of her rant. She hurries out of the lab without a backward glance.

It's just getting to the middle of June, so it's nice out, not that she appreciates it. She storms down the street, jostled by tourists swarming around Stark Tower just to catch a glance of a douchebag with a goatee, as if the world isn't _crawling_ with those already. She puts her nose in the air and speeds up, clearing four blocks without even noticing, before finding herself at the waterfront. There's nowhere else to go but back the way she came, so she drops her hands onto the railing and peers over.

The water is greenish and murky, and an empty bottle of Coke floats by as she looks down at it, but she still wonders what would happen if she just scaled the railing and jumped in. There's a family with a couple of kids nearby, and some old ladies feeding the birds, so she figures it would just cause a scene.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket and she looks away from the water to retrieve her phone. If it's Erik calling to continue hassling her, she swears to God...

It's not; it's a text from Darcy that reads, 'heyyy, u cooled down yet? wanna go out & get coffee? convo no yelling :)'.

She narrows her eyes at the message and her fingers itch to fire back something nasty and incoherent, even though she knows it's completely uncalled for; Darcy's trying her best.

Still, she needs to yell at someone or she's going to take it out on those noisy kids pretending to be Captain America and Iron Man. She closes the text message, leaving it unanswered, and taps her phone against the railing. The only thing that _really_ feels like it would help is shouting at Thor again, but she's not quite so far gone that yelling at the sky seems like a feasible choice.

She looks at her phone again and frowns. She shouldn't... he probably doesn't even have the same number... this would be definite crazy ex-girlfriend territory... But she never got to say all the things she wanted to say to him before she left for New Mexico, she left with all the blame on her shoulders and their mutual friends thinking he was a saint...

She opens the phonebook and scrolls down it, until she gets to 'Don'.

“I'm fucking crazy,” she mutters, as she hits 'call'.

It rings for five rings, and she's just about to hang up when there's a click on the line.

“Dr Don Blake,” he says, in that irritatingly pompous way he always had about him.

She stares out at the water and doesn't reply. Fuck, what the hell was she thinking?

“Hello?” Don prompts. “Is anyone there?”

She takes a deep breath. “Hi, Don.”

“Hi...? Who is this?”

She narrows her eyes; he doesn't even recognise her goddamn voice, which is ironic considering how often he told her she talked too much.

“It's Jane,” she says tightly. “ _Foster_.”

“Oh, Jane, hi,” he says. “Uh, so what do you want?”

“I just, uh...” She sighs and tugs at her hair. They broke up four years, this is crazy.

“Look, if this isn't important, I'm kind of in a hurry...”

She tightens her fingers around the phone. “Actually, I wanted to tell you that I resent how I got blamed for everything when we broke up.”

“Jane,” he says, in a long-suffering tone. “This is ancient history. You're the one that broke up with me when I wanted to _marry_ you. You should move on.”

She feels all her muscles tense up at once. “Excuse me? You treated me like _shit_. You made me feel like a fucking idiot while I was studying for my _PhD_. You criticised every little thing I did or enjoyed. I didn't dump you because I was afraid of commitment, I dumped you because I finally realised that I'd rather be single forever than stay with you for a second longer.”

Her voice has been steadily rising, until the parents of 'Captain America' and 'Iron Man' glare at her. She glares right back.

“Well, don't hold back,” he says snidely, “is that everything you wanted to say?”

“Don't you fucking dare speak to me like that!” she shouts. “Does your new girlfriend know how long you tried to get back together with me? All those whiny Facebook messages you sent me?”

“Stop being crazy, Jane, you're better than that,” he says, and she swears to God, everything bleeds red for a second.

“I am fucking crazy!” she screams, and hurls her phone into the river. It travels a good twenty feet before hitting the water, and she gets a rush of satisfaction like she did with the broken cup, until the phone slides under the surface and she realises, she isn't getting that back.

“Good for you,” someone behind her says. She turns to the voice, first seeing the parents leading their kids away from her disapprovingly, then at one of the old ladies throwing seed to the birds. “I always wanted to give my ex of piece of my mind, but he died on me before I could,” she says.

“Thanks...” she murmurs.

The lady smiles. “Don't look now, but the cops are coming, you should probably hustle.”

Jane looks around and sees a couple of cops approaching. “Shit,” she mutters, and pats down her pockets – she doesn't even have ID since she left her wallet in the lab. “Thanks,” she says again to the lady, and tries not to look too suspicious as she speeds out of the park.

They don't follow her and after a couple of blocks she slows down. She should just go home, all she has on her is her keycard for the tower and the crowds are already making her skin crawl again. But what's she going to tell Bruce? 'I started screaming in public and threw my phone into the river'? Excellent girlfriend material right there, along with all the random outbursts and yelling. He must feel really blessed.

She passes a toy store and can't miss the ten foot Avengers display complete with various flashing lights in the window. There's an assortment of toys in the display, including a number of Thor action figures. The last thing she should do, the _absolute last thing_ , is go in there and take a closer look at them...

It's even noisier and more packed inside and she edges around the kids scattering all over. She wanders around for a couple of minutes before finding the Avengers aisle – she knew there were toys and stuff, but this place has everything: action figures, soft toys, clothes, video games, DVDs, books...

There's a six inch Hulk toy sitting on the shelf that has a button on its chest. She pushes it carefully and the toy roars alarmingly loud. She flinches and looks over the rest of the set. There's no Black Widow, she notices with a frown, but there is a Thor, and she hesitantly picks it up. The likeness isn't too bad, though oddly bland. There's a button on his chest too, and she glances around this time before pushing the button.

“Hammer, to me!” it barks. She raises an eyebrow and presses the button again, but it only says the one thing, apparently.

“Piece of crap,” she mutters, and puts it back down beside Hulk. They look weird and out of proportion next to each other.

It feels symbolic or something.

“Jesus,” she mutters, running a hand over her face. She needs to go home.

She walks back the three blocks slowly, dragging her feet. How is she going to look anyone in the face at the lab? 'Person who screams and rants' is generally a bad reputation to get in a lab, especially for a woman, and there's ample evidence for it now.

She keeps her head down as she enters the lobby and goes around to the residential elevators.

“Hold the elevator!” someone calls as she gets in.

She sighs and reaches over to hold the door. The person hurries to the elevator, shoes clicking on the marble floor, and when Jane looks over, it's none other than Pepper Potts.

“Oh, Dr Foster, it's nice to see you, again.” 

Jane smiles back and presses her thumb to the fingerprint reader, then hits the button for her floor. Pepper follows suit.

“It's nice to see you too,” Jane says, a beat too late.

Pepper smiles pleasantly. “How's it going in the lab?”

“It's fine. Good. Good.” She clears her throat. “How's it going in... with your work?” 

“It's fine, too,” Pepper says, smiling a little indulgently, Jane thinks. She tries not to let that annoy her, and thankfully the elevator arrives at her floor a few moments later.

“Um, nice talking to you,” Jane mumbles, and waves awkwardly at Pepper.

“You too, Doctor,” Pepper says and the doors close on her.

She walks across the hall to Bruce's door and lingers outside it for a couple of seconds, twiddling her keycard in her hand. It's not like she has the option to not go in, all her stuff's in there, her money, Bruce... And Bruce will still be in the lab, so she can at least have a little while to calm down.

She swipes the card through the reader and opens the door.

Bruce jumps up from the couch, phone in hand, and gets halfway across the room before stopping. “Hey...” he murmurs.

“Hi. Um. I thought you'd still be in the lab...”

He shrugs. “I closed up early. Do you... would you prefer that I was in the lab?”

“No! I... no, I just thought you would be...”

“Okay. Uh, I tried calling you a few times...” He lifts his phone as evidence.

She wraps her arms around herself. “Yeah, I, uh, lost my phone.”

He frowns. “Oh, that sucks, sor--”

“Actually, I threw it in the East River,” she ploughs on quickly. “Um.”

“Oh.”

“Not because you were calling. I... called my ex and yelled at him, then I threw it in.”

He blinks. “Oh.”

“An old lady congratulated me. She said her ex died before she got to yell at him.”

Bruce presses his lips together and raises his hand to his mouth, nodding slowly and screwing up his face.

“Are you laughing?” she asks.

“No,” he mumbles unconvincingly.

“I almost got arrested!”

He squeaks and starts laughing in earnest behind his hand. She narrows her eyes at him and closes the gap between them.

“It's not funny,” she insists. She almost swats at him, but something stops her, and she steps into his space instead and wraps her arms around him. She can feel the laughter in his chest.

Bruce hugs her back, kissing the top of her head. “How'd it feel, throwing your phone away?”

“Really good, for, like, three seconds, then I realised that I'd just pitched a three hundred dollar phone into the drink.”

Bruce snorts again.

“What?” she says, tugging at his t-shirt.

“Mm, nothing, you just kind of sound like you've stepped out of an old movie. Your phone is sleeping with the fishes.”

She screws up her face and pushes at his shoulder before leaning up to kiss him. “I'm sorry I yelled at you,” she says quietly as she pulls away.

“Don't worry about it,” he says, and leans back in to kiss her again.

She kisses him back for a moment, wanting to get caught up in it and forget the last few hours, but something nags at her.

She pulls away a second time and plants her hands on his shoulders. “I am worried about it.”

“Okay...” he says, frowning at her. “Do you want to sit down?”

She nods and leads him over to the couch. Bruce tosses his phone onto the coffee table and scoots around to face her.

“I'm sorry for yelling,” she repeats.

Bruce looks confused. “It's really okay, did you even realise it was me you were yelling at?”

She shakes her head.

“Then there's not much to be upset about, is there?”

She shrugs, and starts picking at her nails. “I just... keep lashing out at people. If you'd heard me talking to Don... I sounded like a lunatic, we broke up four years ago, I don't even care about him any more... I just keep getting angry at everyone, about everything.”

“Do you get angry at me?”

She shakes her head. “No, you're the only person I don't get angry at.”

Bruce smiles. “Okay.”

“But what if I start? What if I start lashing out at you? Or... hit you?”

“Have you ever wanted to hit me?”

“No, but...” She scrutinises her fingernails. “I hit Thor more than once...”

“Well, he did provoke you.”

She looks up at him. “Your father probably said he was provoked.”

Bruce flinches and looks at his lap. “Okay...”

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“No, it's... a point,” he says, swallowing heavily. “Do you... do you think you'd be this worried about it, if I hadn't told you about... him?”

“Probably not as worried, no.”

He nods slowly and swallows. “Okay, then I think you're having intrusive thoughts more than anything...”

“Are you suggesting I'm being irrational?” she says, and smiles a little. He smiles back and picks up one of her hands. “Do you have thoughts like that?”

Bruce laughs. “Constantly.”

She kneads her fingers into his palm and sighs. “Like what?”

He takes a deep breath. “Like... I'll Hulk out without warning one day and kill you, or I _won't_ Hulk out and I'll _still_ kill you. Sometimes I think about...” He looks at her and presses his lips together shakily, and she can feel the quiver in his hand.

“You can tell me,” she says softly.

He takes another breath and squeezes her hand. “Sometimes I think about grabbing hold of your hair and smashing your head against a wall,” he says quickly and shudders.

“Okay,” she says. She pulls his hand into her lap and covers it with her other hand. “So we both worry about hurting the other, huh?”

“Apparently,” he says, and smiles again. “Hey, at least we're communicating.”

She snorts and squeezes his hand again. “God, I think I'm going crazy.”

“You're not going crazy.”

“I feel crazy.”

“Well, you aren't any crazier than I am,” he says, smiling lopsidedly at her.

She laughs a little and rubs at her face. “Well, that's something.”

Later, after Bruce has made her dinner and generally fussed over her, they go to bed. Bruce falls asleep pretty quickly, but Jane stays up on her laptop, browsing aimlessly. Once Bruce is snoring next to her, she closes the Facebook tab and goes to Google. She taps her fingertips on the keyboard for a second, looking over at Bruce's slack face, then quickly types her search term: _former child abuse victims relationships_. She skims through a few pages, keeping half an eye on Bruce, and reads phrases like 'chronic self-esteem issues', 'repeating patterns of abuse', 'people pleaser'...

Her chest starts to get tight as she keeps reading. She thinks about how Bruce is always trying to make her feel better, how he ran around after her tonight after she yelled at him and stormed out of the building like a teenager. She thinks about how expressing even the mildest of criticism of her makes him nervous and fidgety. She thinks about what a bitch she is to him sometimes. Her heart starts to pound in her chest, and she slams the laptop closed and puts it on her night stand. She sits there on the edge of the bed for a moment, blood pounding in her ears. Without the laptop, the room is dark, and it starts to press in close around her.

The mattress moves slightly underneath her, and she looks over her shoulder at Bruce. He throws an arm over his head and breathes out heavily but doesn't wake up. He doesn't deserve all the crap she throws at him; no one would, but especially not him, not with everything he's been through. He just takes it all and doesn't even seem to mind. He used to date a scientist at the top of her field, and now he's with a washed up, fucked up lunatic.

She should just go. She should stop being a burden on him, and everyone else, and just leave. He'd get over it; maybe he'd get back together with Dr Ross, or maybe someone new. Shit, Jenny would probably jump at the chance to go out on a date with him.

She gets up suddenly, even to herself, and walks over to the chest of drawers. Most of her things are even still in her suitcases, but she has some underwear and things in his top drawer. She could just get them out, throw them in her suitcase and leave, wouldn't even take more than fifteen minutes, probably.

The drawer squeaks as she opens it and she peers in, at her meagre collection of off white underpants and unimpressive bras. What a catch.

“Jane?” Bruce mumbles, “what're you doing?”

She should have realised he was awake, the snoring stopped. She looks over her shoulder at him, although he hasn't moved and she figures he's not fully awake yet – she could give him some excuse and he'd probably go back to sleep.

“Jane?” he repeats, and starts pushing himself up onto his elbows.

“Nothing,” she says, abandoning the drawer. “Just a... bad dream.”

She gets back into the bed and tucks herself against his chest, burying her nose into his t-shirt.

“Sorry you had a bad dream,” Bruce murmurs.

“It's fine,” she says, and burrows in a little closer.

She wakes up hours later to the sound of running water and finds herself on her stomach with her face pressed into the mattress and the blankets up around her shoulders. She stays like that for a few minutes before rolling onto her back and pulling herself up slowly. The water shuts off and she hears Bruce mutter to himself about how cold it is out of the shower. She smiles and looks over at the bathroom door. The chest of drawers sits next to the door, the drawer still open from the night before.

“Oh,” she murmurs, heart sinking.

Bruce steps out of the bathroom a second later, a towel wrapped around his waist. “Morning,” he says, smiling easily. He looks at the open drawer, hums a little, then pushes it closed. “Sleep well?”

“I slept okay.”

“That's good,” he says.

“Mm,” she hums, and bunches up the blankets around her waist.

Bruce frowns and tips his head to one side. “Are you okay?”

She shrugs.

His frown deepens. “Jane?”

“I... almost left last night,” she says quietly.

“What?”

“I almost... left,” she repeats. “The tower.”

Bruce freezes for a moment, and Jane looks away, at the floor by the bed. “I thought it'd be easier for you,” she mumbles.

“Jane,” he says. He sounds hurt.

She shrugs, still looking at the floor.

“Can I show you something?” he asks.

She looks back up at him. He doesn't look angry, just a little sad, which makes her feel so much worse. “Sure,” she mutters.

He nods and walks over to the closet. It's already open, so he leans in and pulls out a bag. It's a camping bag with lots of straps and pockets. She's seen it in there before but never given it much thought.

He puts it onto the bed and sits down beside her. “This is my running away bag,” he says.

“Your what?”

He leans over and starts unzipping it. “I take this with me everywhere I go. I have...” He pulls out a pile of clothes and puts them on the bed. “Clothes, non-perishable food, money, things to trade, fake passports, a burner phone...”

She peers into the bag and sees all the things he's talking about, the entire bag is stuffed with things, there's not an inch of unused room.

“I've had a bag like this since I was eight years old, I'm always prepared to cut and run,” he says. “Maybe if my mom had had one...”

He purses his mouth and sighs. She reaches over and covers his hand with hers and he smiles a little. “Mm, sorry, I wasn't trying to get sympathy. I just... want you to know that it's okay to think about leaving. Even if that means leaving me. I don't want you to stay somewhere you aren't happy...”

“I am happy,” she says quickly. “I am, most of the time. Like, seventy percent of the time.”

“That's not a bad percentage,” he says.

She looks at him for a moment, then runs her hand over her face. “God, I treat you like crap,” she mutters.

“No, you don't,” he says, and shifts closer. “Hey, come on, no, you don't.”

She shakes her head. “Why do you put up with me?”

Bruce frowns. “Jane...”

She sighs heavily. “God, and Darcy texted me yesterday about going out and I never replied to her. I can't do anything right any more.”

“Jane,” he repeats, and wraps his arm around her. “It never helps to go down this path, trust me.”

She nods and sniffs, rubbing her hand underneath her nose. Bruce squeezes her shoulders and kisses the top of her head; she has to shut her eyes really tight to stop from crying.

“I'm gonna have a shower and email Darcy,” she murmurs, wiping at her face quickly and smiling up at him.

“Okay, I'll make breakfast,” he says, and kisses the side of her head.

-

She agrees to meet Darcy for lunch and spends most of the morning on Bruce's phone to her cell provider and then at a store getting a new phone. She told Darcy in her email that she lost her phone, because she's too embarrassed to admit what actually happened. She must have had some kind of psychotic break yesterday, or something.

She gets a fancy BlackBerry, since she can afford it these days, and walks over to the cafe she agreed to meet Darcy at. She's already there, listening to her iPod as always, frowning down at her own phone. Jane watches her from outside for a moment; she looks tired.

Darcy doesn't notice Jane's arrival until Jane taps her on the shoulder, at which point she starts and quickly shoves her phone back into her pocket.

“Hey!” she says, looking up at Jane.

“Hey, I'm going to grab a coffee.”

“'kay,” Darcy says. Once Jane is up at the counter, she notices that Darcy pulls her phone back out of her pocket and starts tapping on it.

“So,” she says, a couple of minutes later, sitting down with her coffee.

“Hey, Doc,” Darcy says, again stowing her phone. “Are we going to start fighting again or...?”

Jane sighs and sips at her coffee. “No fighting. Probably. How are you? Are you enjoying New York?”

Darcy snorts. “Yeah, it's good. But more to the point, how are _you_?”

Jane shrugs. “Oh, I'm okay, I guess. I don't really know any more.”

“Sucks that you lost your phone.”

“Yeah... How's Mom?”

“She's good. Look, she's just... worried, you know? Lately you've been kinda...”

“Crazy?” Jane suggests.

Darcy pulls a face. “Not what I was gonna say, but yeah, pretty much. You know she doesn't really care who you date, right?”

“'As long as I'm happy',” Jane says, making air quotes with her fingers. “Yeah, I know.”

Darcy smiles. “Yeah. So, real talk, what's Banner really like?”

Jane rolls her eyes. “He's... a good man. He's kind and funny and smart and really, really patient.”

“Yeah, okay, that's nice and all,” Darcy says, waving a hand, “but what's he like in bed?”

“Really, Darcy?” Jane says, and shakes her head. “He snores a lot.”

“That is _not_ what I mean, and you know it,” Darcy says.

Jane laughs and picks up her coffee again, sipping at it for a long moment, while Darcy pulls faces at her and then gets her phone out again and starts tapping on it.

Jane puts down her cup and takes a breath. “So... you're not going to get on me about the situation with Thor?” she asks, cursing the slight shake to her voice.

Darcy puts her phone down and sighs. “Look, I like the big guy, you know I do, but I love you, so whatever you need to do, that's good with me.”

“Oh,” Jane murmurs, tears swelling in her eyes. God, she is _not_ going to start with this again. She shifts in her seat, wipes at her eyes quickly, and smiles. “So, are you looking forward to going back to London?” she says, smiling too wide.

Darcy pulls a face. “Actually... I applied for the International Relations masters program at NYU for the fall. I got in.”

“What? You didn't tell me you were thinking about doing that. How long ago?”

Darcy shrugs. “Couple of months. It was a late application, so I didn't think I had a chance of getting in, but... I did. They let me know a couple of weeks ago. I'm going to stay out here, look for apartments.”

“What about Ian?”

Darcy sighs. “He's been texting me all day, but...” She shrugs. “The perils of rushing into things, huh?”

Jane laughs; that about sums up every relationship she's ever had. “Tell me about it,” she says.

-

Somehow, Darcy manages to talk Jane into another lunch with her mother, so the next day they sit together in yet another coffee shop and Jane twiddles her thumbs and shifts in her seat as she waits for her drink to be ready.

“How are you feeling?” Mom asks.

Jane shrugs, and looks back at the barista.

“Darcy said you lost your phone.”

“Yeah.” This barista is moving very slowly.

“That's unfortunate.”

“Yeah.”

“What's your new phone like?”

“Fine.” The barista carries a paper cup to the counter, and Jane is out of her chair before he even calls her name. She fusses with it for a few minutes, adding more sugar and milk, before eventually dragging herself back over to their table. Mom raises her eyebrows at her, and Jane hunches over her cup.

“Jane, will you talk to me?”

“We are talking,” she says, and takes a sip of her coffee.

Mom purses her lips. “I'm worried about you.”

Jane sighs. “I know you are.”

“You don't seem happy.”

“I'm...” she looks down at her cup and sighs. “I'm happier than I was, I think. I feel more... awake, at least”

Mom nods slowly. “You're moving awfully fast with Bruce.”

Jane laughs and shakes her head. “I know I am, but that's the last thing you should be worried about.”

“So, what should I be worried about?”

She walked right into that one, she thinks to herself, and sighs again. “I... am having trouble with my anger. I'm having a lot of nightmares, lashing out at people...”

“Have you talked to anyone about it?”

She shrugs. “I talk to Bruce. He had a pretty troubled childhood, and...” She stops herself before saying that Bruce has his own issues with anger. It seems like Erik hasn't told Mom about Hulk, and telling your mother that your boyfriend has anger issues? Probably not the way to go. “And he knows what it feels like.”

“That's good, but what about a professional? When your father died--”

Jane rolls her eyes. “I don't need to see a grief counsellor, Mom.”

“No, but perhaps a therapist could help you.”

“And what would I tell them? The whole thing's crazy, and classified by SHIELD. And even if I did tell a therapist about everything, how are they even going to understand? I doubt they teach 'counselling former possession victims' at college.”

Mom blinks a couple of times. “A good therapist doesn't need to have personal experience with things to help.”

“ _That's_ putting it lightly.”

Mom sighs. “Okay, Jane, clearly you don't want to talk about this.”

_How can you tell?_ runs through her head, but wisely she keeps that to herself. Instead she just shrugs again. “There's nothing much to talk about.”

Mom frowns and reaches across the table to take Jane's hand. “I'm sorry you've been so unhappy.”

She shrugs. “It's okay.”

“It's not, though. I could see you were getting dragged down when you were in London. I'd hoped that when you and Thor got together, you'd be happier but...”

“I really wasn't.” She sighs and drags her hand through her hair. “I spent years _pining_ for a man I barely even knew. It's just so embarrassing.”

“Don't be too hard on yourself. Thor wasn't just some guy you met at a bar, you had good reason for not wanting to let go.”

“But then I couldn't even make it work for a year!” she says, throwing up her hands. “None of it was ever going to work, it's like I was wandering around life with my eyes closed.”

“Infatuation does that to people,” Mom says.

Jane snorts. “I just suck at relationships. I always screw them up.”

“On that note, how are things with Bruce?”

“Oh God, he's... almost pathologically patient with me. Kind, smart, gentle...” She's going to screw _him_ up, but she's too weak-willed to let him go.

Mom smiles. “Well, that's good.”

“Yeah... it is,” she says slowly. “I'm not always very nice to him. I'm definitely not infatuated with him. I feel bad about that sometimes.”

“Do you love him?”

She sighs and picks up her now lukewarm coffee. “Maybe. I think he's definitely in love with me.”

“Well, it's always good to keep them guessing.”

“Mom!”

She picks up her cup with a shrug. “That's what I did with your father.”


	10. Chapter 10

Once her mother has gone back to London, Jane slowly starts to feel less agitated. Bruce clearly notices the change, but doesn't comment on it except to become more effusive in bed again. After acting so all over the place with him for the last couple of weeks, it nice to get back to normal. After a few days deliberation, she even books an appointment with a therapist.

She doesn't tell Bruce about it, for some reason, and books a nine thirty AM appointment, telling him that she's going to go with Darcy to look at an apartment. Bruce smiles easily and kisses her goodbye the morning of her appointment, totally oblivious to any lie on her part.

The office is only a few blocks away from the tower, so she walks there slowly, passing by that stupid toy store. She's been to a therapist before, when her dad died in a car wreck, truck versus hatchback. It was shocking and brutal and she saw things in the hospital afterwards that she won't ever fully cleanse from her memory. She was thirteen at the time and sent to a child psychologist, the waiting room was painted in pastel yellows and pinks, and most of it was taken up with children's toys and miniature tables and chairs. It was _awful_ and humiliating and she was talked to like one of the five year olds scurrying around the waiting room. She went twice, the second time only because her mother had taken to crying in the bathroom and she couldn't bring herself to throw the fit that she desperately wanted to.

This office is painted off-white and has big windows and comfortable chairs. There's a child's play area in the corner, and a smiling receptionist by the door who gives Jane a form to fill in.

It's the normal stuff, mostly: name, date of birth, medical conditions, current medications. She fills it in with one eye on the clock, and flips over to the next page. Past therapy experience, _grief counselling_ she scribbles. Presenting problems, _anger, insomnia, irrationality, depression_. A woman comes in with a couple of kids and Jane's gaze slides down to the last box on the page. Past traumas. She taps her pen against the clipboard; how does she even begin with this one? Was it assault, rape? It was certainly a violation of her body, but not in the normal sense...

The kids start fussing and bashing around with the toys on offer, ignored by their parent. Jane's heart starts to beat faster, and she looks back down at the form. Should she write 'possession'? Make something up, say she was raped? It seems wrong to lie about a thing like that, even under her special circumstances.

One of the kids starts making airplane noises with a toy plane, running around the kitchen playset. She twitches and tries to concentrate on the page. She presses the pen to the paper and takes a breath.

“ _Mom_!” the other kid yells, and Jane's hand jumps, leaving a long pen mark across the page. 

She looks up again, at the kids, and the clock, which tells her that her appointment is in five minutes, and abruptly stands up. No one notices her reaction, as conspicuous as she feels, and she bangs the clipboard against her leg for a moment, trying to come to a decision.

“ _Mooom_ ,” the kid wails again.

Jane twitches and hurries up to the receptionist's desk and drops the clipboard on it.

“I got a, uh, call, I have to go,” she mumbles, a ridiculous excuse considering that she's been sitting in full view of the receptionist this entire time.

“Would you like to reschedule?” the lady asks.

“Um, uh, I'll call later,” she says, already hurrying towards the door.

Her heart doesn't stop thumping in her chest until she's a block away, on her way back to the tower. She stops, takes a breath, and shakes her head. What a shitshow, she shouldn't have even bothered; it's the same old story, her mom guilting her into going. That shit never works out for her.

She walks the rest of the way back at a normal pace, and gets into the lab at nine forty five.

“That didn't take long,” Bruce says, looking up from his computer.

She shrugs. “The place was kind of shitty, I don't think she's going to take it.”

Bruce makes a sympathetic sound as one of the interns approaches them.

“Mail!” he says, dropping a pile of envelopes on Bruce's desk. The intern has nothing for Jane.

“Thanks,” Bruce says, and picks up the stack. “Junk, credit card application, bill...” he murmurs to himself, dropping each envelope onto the desk.

“Doctor B, come have your photo taken,” Jenny calls.

Bruce blinks and looks at Jane, then at Jenny. “What?”

“I'm taking photos for the department website,” Jenny says.

Bruce frowns and Jane covers up her smile. “What website?”

“Oh, uh, I submitted a request to set up a website, I should have told you, sorry...”

Bruce looks over at Jane again, then sighs. “It's fine.”

Jenny smiles and grabs her camera. “How about a picture of you and Dr Foster together?”

Jane shares a look with Bruce, as Jenny starts to blush. Poor Jenny. “Sure,” Jane says, and throws an arm around Bruce's shoulders.

Bruce clears his throat, mail still in one hand, and puts his arm around her waist.

“Say 'science'!” Jenny says, lifting her camera. 

Jane laughs and Bruce mutters that he's not going to say that. The flash goes off and Jenny scrutinises the photo. 

“Can I take one more?” she asks.

“Sure,” Jane says, and whispers to Bruce, “don't grimace.”

“I'm not grimacing,” he mutters.

“Smile!” Jenny says and takes another snap.

“Better?” Jane asks.

Jenny purses her lips a little. “Yeah... it's good. Thanks!”

“It was probably awful,” Bruce says, as Jenny walks off to take photos of someone else.

Jane sits down on the edge of his desk and shrugs. “They don't hire us for our photogenic... ness.”

“No, they don't,” Bruce murmurs, looking back at the mail in his hand. “More junk, McDonalds coupons, bill, bill...” He trails off, staring at the envelope.

“What's that one?” she asks.

He puts the rest of the envelopes down on his desk, or tries to but misses and doesn't seem to notice as they fall to the floor.

“Bruce?”

“Mm,” he hums and tears open the envelope left in his hands. His fingers start to shake as he pulls the letter out and the envelope floats to the floor, forgotten.

“Bruce?” she repeats, and hops off his desk to retrieve the envelope.

Bruce remains stock still as he reads the letter, eyes flicking back and forth so fast that she's not sure it's even possible that he's reading whatever is in the letter. She looks down at the envelope in her hands and notices that there's something printed on the top left hand corner.

 _Ohio Hospital for Psychiatry_.

She frowns at it for a second, as she absorbs the words. Ohio...

“Oh no,” she murmurs, and looks back at Bruce. “Bruce?”

His hands are shaking even harder now and the letter slips from his fingers as well. She looks at him, then at the letter. She really doesn't want to see what it says, but Bruce isn't replying, or even moving, so she bends down again and carefully picks it up. She unfolds it slowly, cringing away from it before she's even read the words.

It's handwritten, in scratchy, sharp lettering. It starts, 'Dear Bobby, I know it's been years since we last spoke, but I've thought about you everyday. I've received years of treatment and understand now that you and your mother didn't deserve to be treated the way you were by me...' She skims some more of it – it's a long letter – and hits on the phrase, 'appealing to be released'.

“Oh God,” she mutters. She puts the letter down on the desk and turns to face Bruce. “Bruce?” she says again, and reaches out to touch his arm.

He jumps back like he's been burnt, and his eyes flash bright green. “Leave,” he whispers raggedly.

She doesn't know what to do. She looks at Bruce, as his breathing gets more and more audible. A couple of the interns have noticed and are looking at her worriedly.

“JARVIS?” she asks quietly.

“I am going to set off the alarms, Dr Foster,” JARVIS says, “I suggest you leave the lab.”

True to his word, an alarm start wailing and Bruce squeezes his eyes shut and shudders. Jane takes a step towards him and pauses. “Bruce...” she murmurs, pathetic and ineffectual.

“Dr Foster?” Nick calls.

She takes a breath and looks away from Bruce. “Everyone out of the lab, right now!” she shouts.

They don't need to be told twice, everyone scatters from the lab as JARVIS begins counting down.

“The lab will seal in ten, nine...”

Bruce drops down onto his knees and covers his head with his hands, and she can see how the seams of his t-shirt are being stretched to their breaking point. She kneels down beside him tentatively and reaches out her hand. “It's okay,” she says. Her fingers just barely graze his back when he lashes out and shoves her away. She slides at least five feet across the floor, almost hitting her head against one of the desks. Bruce looks up at her, his face dark and skin tough-looking, and he looks in so much pain that she feels her eyes start to tear up.

“Four, three, two, one,” JARVIS finishes counting, and all the doors slam shut. 

Jane looks at the sealed doors and swallows. The interns are on the other side, banging on the door.

Then Bruce starts screaming. It's a horrible, pain-stricken shriek that sets her teeth on edge. She scrambles up and backs away as the seams of Bruce's t-shirt tear open. He pounds his rapidly swelling fist against the floor, sending a spider web of cracks spreading outwards, and keeps screaming.

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of her lungs. She's always thought that the idea of being scared of Bruce was laughable, but she feels it now, right in her bones: fear of a Bruce she's never seen before.

He slams his other fist down on the floor, now completely green and misshapen. The screaming stops abruptly, and leaves the room silent except for the sounds of them breathing. Jane's own breathing seems incredibly loud to her ears, though Bruce-- Hulk's surpasses it.

He pushes himself up by his arms, keeping his head lowered, and plants his feet on the floor with two lab-shaking thumps. He must be at least eight foot tall now, as he lifts his head, his eyes a brilliant green. They stare at each other in silence for a moment; it's difficult to take all of him in, the height and mass and... She drops her gaze lower, at his... Hulk dong, and has to clamp down on hysterical laughter. That thing is as long as her forearm and as thick as her leg.

Hulk looks her up and down in return, and it's all she can do to not run into the kitchen and try to hide from him. He stares at her for a few seconds longer, then huffs and looks away.

“What the fuck is going on?” she hears Tony yell outside the door. She looks over and sees him approach the small reinforced glass window of the door. “Foster?” he shouts, then steps back. “JARVIS, open the door, let her out.”

“I cannot do that, sir,” she hears muffled through the door. “These security measures were put in place by you.”

“Override them!”

“Sir, there is no override in place.”

“Make one!”

“ _Sir_ , you may rewrite the security measures _after_ the incident has been resolved.”

Jane looks away, at Hulk, who's frowning and growling at the door. He takes a deep breath and roars in Tony's direction.

Tony comes back to the window and peers in. “Hey, Hulk! Hey, come over here, buddy!” he calls, making a beckoning gesture.

Hulk huffs again and takes a step forward. It's actually pretty cute, and Jane covers her smile with her hand, even as her heart thunders in her chest. 

Tony draws Hulk to the door with his calls. “Hey, big guy, you doing okay today?”

Hulk narrows his eyes.

“Yeah, stressful day, I get that,” Tony continues. Jane is honestly impressed by his ability to bullshit so smoothly. “But hey, don't take it out on the lady, okay?”

Hulk turns and looks at Jane, flares his nostrils, then looks back at Tony.

“Foster's pretty cool,” Tony says, “Bruce likes her a lot, so just leave her alone, okay?”

She wasn't sure until this exact moment whether Hulk understood what's being said; he rears back from the door and roars, then grabs hold of the edge of some metal shelving fixed to the wall and rips it off. Jane stays where she is, totally still, so as not to provoke Hulk further, but apparently all the shelving is connected together; it starts coming down like dominoes and a length of shelving beside her comes loose from the wall with a terrible groan. She turns to look at it as it falls, coming towards her, and a very long second passes as she thinks she should probably get out of the way, yet doesn't move. After the second passes, the choice is taken out of her hands; Hulk sweeps her up, out of the way, and the shelves crash down exactly where she'd been standing.

Hulk holds her with a hand on either side of her waist, like a doll, and when she throws her hand out to steady herself she meets with the tough skin of his chest. It's like touching sandpaper.

He takes her to the other side of the room, as far from the door as they can go, and stares at her, his furrowed brow cutting deep lines in his face. He holds her surprisingly gently, though her heart is still beating so fast that she can't properly draw breath. Hulk continues to watch her closely.

“Hulk, could you... put me down?”

He huffs and seems to think about it for a moment, before setting her down. Her legs immediately go out from under her, though, like they've turned to jello, and Hulk scoops her up again and holds her up higher, scrutinising her.

“It's okay,” she says shakily, and points to a nearby desk. “I'll sit on the table.”

She swears that he pouts at her, still holding her six feet off the ground.

“It's okay, I promise,” she repeats, and pats his arm. “Put me down?”

He narrows his eyes and huffs, then carefully puts her down on the table. She takes a deep breath and shifts around for a moment, before looking back up at him. He frowns at her.

“You, Hulk; me, Jane?” she says, a nervous giggle bubbling out of her.

He keeps frowning at her. 

“It's a joke, from a... movie.”

He turns his head to one side.

“Just not funny?” she asks. “Yeah, people tell me that a lot.”

He blinks a couple of times, brow twitching, then bares his teeth at her. It's kind of unsettling at first, until she realises that he's smiling at her. She clasps her hands in her lap and chuckles.

“Thanks.”

He bares his teeth for another couple of seconds, then looks away, shuffling his feet. It's so Bruce-like that she laughs, and Hulk looks back at her quickly and bares his teeth again. They lapse into silence after that, and Hulk stomps off into the middle of the room. He looks around for a moment, then picks up the shelving and tears it apart. The metal literally tears apart in his hands, and he tosses it aside and moves onto the cabinets, ripping them from the wall. He growls and roars and huffs as he smashes up desks and cabinets, but the destruction seems sort of... aimless. She's seen footage of him before, all power and rage and focused insanity, but right now, he just seems unsure of what to do.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

He drops a cabinet door and looks at her.

“Sorry, dumb question,” she mutters.

He frowns and walks back over to her. Her heart isn't beating so fast any more, but she still steels herself as he approaches.

He stops in front of her and pouts again. “Hulk okay,” he says gruffly.

She tries not to look too surprised; she didn't realise he could speak, but it makes sense that if he can understand language, he'd be able to respond at least a little.

“That's good,” she says softly.

He shakes his head. “Banner...”

“Bruce isn't okay,” she says.

“Banner stay inside.” He taps his chest. “Safe.”

“You keep him safe?”

He nods sharply. “Job.”

“It's your job?”

He grins. “And smash.”

She smiles back. “You're good at smashing.”

He keeps grinning, his lips pulled all the way back, for a moment, before growing serious again. “Banner small,” he says.

“Okay...”

He holds his hand out a couple of inches above her head. “Small.”

“Yeah, he's not much taller than me...”

Hulk stares at her. “Banner weak.”

She frowns, she's not sure she'd agree with that assessment, but... “Okay.”

He huffs irritably and screws up his face. “Fr... fr...” He stomps his foot and growls.

She thinks about it for a second; she guesses what he's trying to say is on the tip of his tongue, but she doesn't know how able he is to process language. “Fragile?”

He smiles again. “Banner need Hulk.”

“Yeah, I think you're right about that.”

He nods, then looks around again. After a second of thought, he walks back over to the debris and starts smashing stuff up again. He's not that different from Bruce, she thinks, his movements are a little more ape-like, but he hunches his shoulders and keeps his head down like Bruce always does. She wonders sometimes if Bruce constantly has a bad back from it, but he never complains.

Hulk pounds one of the desks into a fine dust while she watches. It looks freeing, she wishes she could cause destruction like that sometimes. The intensity of the Aether was... seductive, and satisfying, and to never feel that again seems like a loss...

Hulk snaps a back off a chair and throws it aside, where it bounces off a wall. That was her chair, she realises.

“I never liked it anyway,” she says.

Hulk pauses and looks around at her. She smiles.

“It was uncomfortable.”

He looks down at the remaining seat and wheels in his hands, then tears them apart and discards them. It seems that he's had enough of smashing after that, because then he stomps back over and stares at her.

“Hi,” she says.

“Puny gods,” he says.

“Sorry?”

He huffs. “Puny gods,” he repeats insistently.

“You mean... Thor and Loki?”

“Hammer god.”

“Thor.” It's like Hulk charades or something.

He sniffs. “Puny.”

Apparently he really likes that word. “Okay...”

“Hulk stronger,” he says seriously. “Banner smarter.”

She looks at him and grins. “Hulk, are you counselling me on my dating choices?”

He narrows his eyes and snorts.

“I'm sorry, I'm not teasing you. You don't have to worry about hammer god.”

He bares his teeth again. “Banner Jane small together.”

She laughs and runs her fingers through her hair. “Noted,” she says.

Hulk keeps staring for another minute, and she looks back at him, watching his chest rise and fall, his muscles twitching underneath his skin. It's amazing, his muscles, his skeletal structure. It's amazing to think that this is Bruce, under all of this. She tries not to let her gaze slide down, even though all of that down there is pretty amazing too.

Hulk lifts his hand and starts to reach out to her, then stops.

“You can touch me,” she says.

He hums, and touches her hair. She holds her breath, hoping that he doesn't underestimate his strength, but he's gentle, like he was when he picked her up. He rubs her hair between his fingers, then moves his hand to her face and touches her cheek. His skin rasps like sandpaper against hers, but she stays still and he brushes his fingertips over her eyebrow and then the bridge of her nose and her chin and bares his teeth again.

She smiles back and lifts her own hand to stroke his arm. Hulk blinks and looks at his arm, then back at her.

“Can I...?” she murmurs, reaching up to his face.

He kneels down, bringing his face about level with hers. She runs her fingers along his heavy brow and then down to his cheeks. His skin is tough and thick but has all the same bumps and marks as Bruce's. He has the same teeth, and the same stubble Bruce had this morning, and the same white hair at his temples. She runs her fingers through it, and Hulk makes a rumbling sound in his chest.

“You like that?” she asks.

He shuts his eyes, so she takes that as a yes and keeps stroking his hair, scratching her fingers lightly against his scalp. Hulk hums his pleasure and tips his head towards her hand like a cat. She presses her fingers a little higher, and he shivers all over, his whole body quivering.

“You're not so scary,” she says.

His eyebrows twitch and he slowly opens his eyes. They're brown.

“Bruce?”

He looks at her, unfocused, and his breathing becomes shallow. She keeps stroking his hair and watches his backwards transformation. His muscles seem to lose cohesion first, turning from firm to soft, and the prominent tendons in his neck disappear. His skin starts to lose its colour, changing to a sickly green-grey. His brow loses its heaviness and his jaw loses its squareness and he starts to sway a little.

She hops off the desk and puts her hands on his chest as he rapidly begins to shrink. When it becomes obvious that he's not going to be able to stand under his power, she slides her arms around him and does her best to haul him up. It's like holding a bag of skin and bones, his skin is loose and everything underneath it is alarmingly movable; she touches his shoulder and his arm doesn't appear to even be connected to the joint. It's possibly even more upsetting than seeing him turn into Hulk.

She pulls him up as much as she can, so his chin is resting on her shoulder and his limp feet are touching the ground.

He lets out a quiet wail next to her ear, which is probably the worst sound she's heard all day. She holds onto him tight and hopes his body knows what it's doing, and after a minute, his loose skin starts to tighten up and she hears the audible pops of his joint reconnecting. It turns her stomach.

The next thing she hears are the doors unlocking around them, and Tony rushing into the room.

“You okay?”

“Get something to cover him,” she says, clinging onto Bruce. God, he's heavy like this.

Tony turns and grabs a couple of coats off a surviving hook by the door. He comes back over to them, looking uncertain. She's never seen Stark uncertain before.

“I can't carry him, Tony,” she says.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he mutters, shaking his head. He drapes the coat around Bruce's shoulders and takes him from her, hoisting him up into a bridal carry. Bruce's head lolls back over Tony's arm, and Jane grimaces. She spreads the other coat out over his lap and bites her lip.

“Let's take him up to the apartment,” she says.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “He normally stays conscious longer than this...”

“It's been a stressful day,” she says, and retrieves the letter from his desk as they pass by it.

There are still some interns hanging around outside. She eyes them coldly as Tony heads to the elevators. “Lab's closed,” she says, and none of them meet her eye.

When they get into the apartment, she directs Tony to the bedroom and he puts Bruce down on the bed. Once he steps back, she removes the coats and tucks the blankets around Bruce. He's completely out cold, doesn't so much as twitch as she moves around him. She takes a breath and steps back.

“I don't know whose coats these are...” she murmurs, picking them up.

“Don't worry, I'll deal with those,” Tony says, taking them off her.

She nods and gestures to the living room; Tony follows her out.

“So, what the hell happened?” he asks, once she's closed the bedroom door over. She doesn't want to close it completely, worried that she might not hear Bruce if he wakes up.

She pulls the letter out of her pocket and hands it to him.

“What's this?”

“Just read it,” she says, “I need something to drink.”

She goes to the kitchen and gets a glass of water, lamenting the fact that living with a teetotaller means no alcohol in the apartment.

“What the fuck?” Tony mutters. She takes a sip of her water and turns back to him. “This guy is a psycho. 'I loved your mother more than you know', 'I like to think that you inherited your intelligence and drive from me', 'I've followed your progress over the years--', that's not creepy _at all_ , '--and I suspect you understand more about adult life now'.” Tony looks up at her, shaking his head slightly. “What the hell is that, 'sorry I killed your mother, son, you'll understand when you're older'?”

Jane lifts a shoulder. “You can probably see why Bruce... had a bad reaction.”

“Yeah... Wow...” He shakes his head and makes to put the letter in his pocket. “Can I keep this for a little while? I'm going to make some calls.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” He pauses for a moment. “Are you okay? Did Hulk hurt you?”

She scowls at him and puts down her glass. “No, he didn't _hurt_ me. He was very gentle.”

“Okay, good,” he says. “Look, I know you don't like me much, and you've got a lot of good reasons for that...”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Yeah.”

Tony clears his throat. “Look, I'm just...” He pulls a face and sighs. “Worried.”

“Bruce wouldn't hurt me,” she snaps.

“Yeah... I'm more worried about you guys... hurting each other.” She narrows her eyes and he holds up his hands. “I mean emotionally, before you get on me about that.”

“Uh huh. And why do you think we'd hurt each other?”

“Because you two have similar... anger management problems. Your screaming sessions on the roof are kind of worrying.”

She narrows her eyes again.

“There are cameras up there,” he says.

“Right.”

“Look, it's not a criticism... really... Hey, me and Pepper could destroy each other without even trying.”

“What are you, Dr Phil?”

Tony grins. “Dr Phil's a hack, but my therapist's pretty good.”

Jane sighs and drops down on the couch. “I'm happy for you,” she says, and runs her palm over her face.

“Okay,” Tony says. “I'll leave you to it, then.”

“Okay,” she says sniffily, and gestures to the door. Tony pulls a face at her but doesn't argue.

She almost has him out the door when he turns back to her with a constipated look on his face. “Look, Bruce is my friend, and I like you, and I am really not good at this responsibility stuff. So just... if something happens, let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, and manages a slight smile. “Thanks.”

Once he's gone, she closes the door and turns back to the room. The place is in its usual mess, nothing out of the ordinary, and Bruce is snoring away in the bedroom like usual, but everything feels out of sync. Her legs get that jello feeling again, and she gives in to the urge to slide down to the floor. Her hands start to shake, then quickly the rest of her body, and she lets it wash over her, her whole body shaking out of her control. Her mind goes strangely blank as she sits there on the floor, and she shuts her eyes until it passes, which it does, eventually. 

She pulls herself up by the door handle, legs still a little shaky, and walks to the bedroom with one hand trailing along the wall. Bruce is still asleep, hasn't moved an inch, and she stands there for a minute staring at him, but there's nothing else she can do for him, so after a minute, she heads back to the kitchen to get something to eat.

-

It feels weird to sleep next to him in bed, or to sleep at all, so when it starts to get late, she stays on the couch watching TV at a very low volume. She stays awake for hours and hours watching reruns of sitcoms she doesn't like, but eventually tiredness overwhelms her and she scoots down to lie on the couch. She keeps her eyes on the screen, but the picture seems further and further away the longer she looks at it, and eventually her eyes slide shut.

When she opens her eyes again, the TV is still on, and there's a figure standing over her. She starts and drags herself up before she realises it's Bruce. He looks terrible, drawn and unwell.

“Hey...” she says, her voice coming out tiny. She clears her throat and tries again. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

He turns his head to one side, staring at her with unfocused eyes.

“Bruce?”

“What did I do?” he asks.

“Sorry?”

“What did _he_ do?” he says, a vicious edge to his voice.

“He...? You mean Hulk? He didn't do anything.”

Bruce narrows his eyes. “He did something. He...”

She sits forward and shakes her head. “He didn't, I swear, he was very sweet to me.”

“Don't lie to me!” Bruce shouts.

She stands up and faces him. “Don't shout at me, Bruce,” she says sharply.

He looks away and then cringes like he's in pain. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“It's fine,” she says, and reaches out to take his hand. He stiffens a little, but lets her pull him down onto the couch. “Hulk didn't do anything to me, I'm not lying to you.”

“I did something, I...” He looks up at her searchingly.

She frowns. “You... pushed me away when you were... transforming, but only because you didn't want me to get hurt. That's all you did, I promise.”

“Really?” he says in a small voice, keeping his head down as he looks at her. He looks incredibly vulnerable.

“Really,” she says, and takes one of his hands. “It's okay, nothing bad happened.”

He looks down at her hand and bites his lips. “Where's the letter?” he asks quietly.

“Tony has it.”

His head shoots back up. “Tony? Why's he got it? Did you give it to him?”

“Well... yeah. I couldn't exactly pretend nothing had happened, and he wanted to know what set you off. He said he was going to make some calls.”

Bruce is on his feet in an instant. “Set me off?” he shouts. “My father's a _murderer_ and he's going to get out and, and now Tony's going to dig around for gossip about my past?”

She blinks. “Tony's not looking for gossip,” she says. “He's trying to help.”

“He can't help!” he shouts. “No one can help, no one could _ever_ help! I don't want everyone _knowing_...”

She stands up again, and Bruce shies back a step. “Hey,” she says, and grabs him by the shoulders. “Hey, look at me.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, not meeting her gaze.

She slides her hands around his cheeks and tilts his head up. “Hey, Tony isn't going to do anything to hurt you, and he's not going to tell anyone.”

He nods slowly and she pulls him closer, wrapping her arms around him. He loosely puts his arms around her waist in return. “You don't know that your father's going to get out,” she says.

“I'll kill him,” he says. “If he gets out, I'll kill him.”

“Okay,” she says.

He shudders and drops his forehead to her shoulder. “I'm so tired, Jane,” he murmurs.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” she asks, stroking one hand over his greasy hair.

He doesn't answer for a long moment, but eventually nods. She leads him gently back to the bedroom and helps him into bed. She tucks the covers in around him again and retrieves an extra blanket from the closet when she notices that he's shivering. She puts that over him too and rubs his back.

“Don't leave,” he says quietly.

She lies down behind him where he's curled up on his side and presses her chest to his back. “I'm not going anywhere.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: some discussion of suicide and just a whole lot of self-destructive behaviour contained within.**

It's difficult to sleep with Bruce the way he is, and she only gets a couple of hours in before getting up and fussing around the apartment again. She has breakfast and a shower and cleans the kitchen, and, when she hears Bruce stir, tries to get him to eat something, but he's barely coherent and she doesn't want to harass so she leaves him be. Tony comes by at midday and gives her the letter back, telling her that he's 'made some calls' and Bruce won't be hearing from his father again. He asks to talk to Bruce, but she tells him he's still sleeping. Tony looks concerned, but lets it go.

She knows why he's worried: Bruce should be awake by now, not curled up in a ball in bed, making the occasional whimpering sound in his sleep. She decides that if he's not up by tomorrow morning, she'll... do something. She's just not sure what.

She's bone tired, and gets back into bed at ten. Bruce doesn't acknowledge her, even though she's pretty sure he's awake. She leaves him alone and stays on her side of the bed, quickly falling asleep. She sleeps fitfully, despite her tiredness, half waking and checking on Bruce. In the middle of the night, she rolls over and finds the other side of the bed empty. 

Maybe he's finally got up, she thinks. She lies there for a few minutes, her arm stretched across his side before she notices how quiet the apartment is. Is he just sitting in the living room in silence? She sits up and struggles out of bed, rubbing her eyes as she makes her way to the door. The living room is empty, although it seems to have been disturbed in some way that she can't quite pin point. She checks the kitchen, which is also empty, then heads to the bathroom. Empty.

She frowns and runs her fingers through her hair. She figures he must be in the en-suite, but wouldn't she have heard him in there? She checks the laundry room quickly, to no avail, and heads back to the bedroom. She can see as soon as she's at the bedroom door that the light in the en-suite is off.

“Bruce?” she calls, and carefully pushes the door open. Empty.

“Bruce?” she calls, louder, even though she's just established that he's not anywhere in the apartment. She steps back into the bedroom and notices for the first time that the closet is open, and his 'running away' bag is lying on the floor. She takes a breath and walks over to it, crouching down beside it. It's open, and it looks like he went through it in a hurry, pulling clothes and IDs out to retrieve... something.

“Shit,” she mutters. She stands up again and grabs her phone, fumbling to call him.

His phone rings, muffled somewhere in the apartment. “ _Shit_ ,” she repeats, going towards to the sound. She locates it under the couch, along with his wallet. They must have got kicked under there when she slept on the couch yesterday. She sits down on the couch and looks at the phone and wallet in her hands, then looks around the room again.

Her bag's laying on the floor. She put it on the chair yesterday and it's far enough away that it doesn't look like it just fell off. Her gaze drifts over the coffee table, where her own wallet is sitting. That was definitely in her bag last night...

She picks it up nervously and opens it up. Her cards are there, but the fifty dollars cash she had? Yeah, that's gone.

“Oh God,” she mutters. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Dr Foster.”

“Is... is Bruce in the building?”

She already knows what the answer is.

“No, Dr Foster.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No, Dr Foster.”

“When did he leave?”

“Two hours ago, at 1.45am.”

She swallows and rubs at her face.

“He appeared to be in quite a lot of distress,” JARVIS adds.

“Yeah,” she says, and stands up. She needs to get dressed...

“Shall I wake Mr Stark?” he asks.

“Um.” She presses her fingers to her mouth. They're shaking slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, tell him I'll be up in five minutes.”

“Yes, Dr Foster.”

When she gets up to the penthouse, Pepper opens the door before she even knocks, and ushers her in. Tony stumbles into the room, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and pulling on a pair of socks.

“Sorry to wake everyone up,” she says.

Pepper waves her off. “It's for Bruce, it's fine.”

Tony pulls on a hoodie and grabs his keys. “I'm going to drive around and look for him, you coming, Jane?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“I'll stay here in case he comes back,” Pepper says.

Tony nods and heads to the door. “Yeah, and I'll call you if we find him.”

Jane steps back out into the corridor and Tony closes the door behind them. “Let's go down to the garage and get one of the cars.”

“Okay,” she says, and starts following him, then frowns. “Wouldn't it be better for you to look for him in the suit.”

“Honestly, even at this time of night, it'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack.” He gestures to the elevator. “Ground level gonna be better, but I'll go up in the suit if I have to.”

She nods and steps into the elevator. “Okay.”

“So, what happened?”

“I...” She shakes her head. “I don't know. He didn't get out of bed all day, basically didn't say anything to me, didn't eat, shower... JARVIS said he seemed distressed when he left.”

“I can imagine,” Tony murmurs. “Well, it's been over two hours, we need to find him.”

“I know,” she says, a little defensively.

“I know you know,” Tony says, pulling a face. “Everything I say isn't an insult, Foster. I'm just thinking that a distressed Bruce isn't a good Bruce to be wandering around New York at night alone.”

Jane nods. “I don't think he'll Hulk out, though. He only did before because of the shock of receiving the letter. He can control it.”

“That's not what I'm really worried about,” Tony says. The elevator doors open on the garage level and he steps out.

“What are you worried about?” she asks, following him.

He glances at her, then looks at her more closely. She leans away. “Shit,” he mutters. “Car's this way.”

“What are you worried about?” she repeats.

“In a minute. Let's get in the car first.”

“Tony!”

“Car,” he says, and gestures to one of his many disgustingly flashy cars. He unlocks it and opens the door for her before going around the other side and getting in. He starts the engine and pulls out of the parking spot.

“What aren't you telling me?” she says.

He sighs and shakes his head. “Look, ahhh, Bruce... tried to kill himself once. That I know of.”

It feels like her stomach bottoms out. “What? _When?_ ”

“Before I knew him, I guess like... six, seven years ago. He said he got 'low', and the thing is I think he's pretty fucking low right now.”

She looks at him, then out the window as they get out of the garage and onto the road. Suicidal... It's not like she can't imagine Bruce... going that way, but somehow it had never occurred to her. She looks at Tony again. “He took fifty dollars out of my wallet,” she says.

Tony raised his eyebrows. “He did?”

“Yeah, uh, his wallet was under the couch, I guess maybe he couldn't find it... That's a good sign, right? Taking money? You don't need money to... kill yourself.”

“That's... true.”

They lapse into silence and she looks out the window, scrutinising the face of every person they pass. Tony does the same, and they pass ten minutes like that, looking out for Bruce's shuffling gait and curly hair.

“Fuck, he could be anywhere,” Tony says.

She nods. “Yeah... Although...” She frowns. “He told me that if his father got released, he'd kill him. Maybe...”

“He's trying to get to Ohio?” Tony finishes. “Well, he won't get there on fifty bucks.”

“He'll probably hitch hike,” she says.

“That's true...” Tony murmurs, and pulls out his phone. He thumbs it on and drops it into a holder on the dashboard. “Call JARVIS,” he says.

“Yes, sir?” JARVIS says a second later.

“What's the quickest you could drive from here to Columbus, Ohio?”

“Eight and a half to nine hours, sir.”

Tony nods. “Okay, well, he won't get there even that soon hitch hiking. And finding him en route will be a bitch.”

“Call the cops,” she says.

He grimaces. “They're not going to pay much attention to an adult missing for a couple of hours unless we tell them he's a danger to himself and others.”

“Which he might be,” she says.

“Sure, but Bruce hardly has a clean rap sheet, it could get him into a hell of lot of trouble.”

“He's already in trouble,” she says, and sits forward. “Look, I'm not asking your permission, I'll call the cops myself.”

Tony waves a hand. “Okay, okay, I get you, you're right. JARVIS, report Bruce missing to the NYPD and contact Columbus PD or whatever they're called and tell them to be on the lookout for him. Tell them he...” Tony rubs at his forehead and sighs. “Tell them he has a mental illness, needs his meds, stuff like that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony shakes his head. “When did I become a narc?”

They drive around for two hours, and Jane hits a couple of false positives and her heart jumps into her throat for five gripping seconds, then they pass by the person and she realises it isn't him. They call it quits when it starts to get light, and drive back to the tower. Tony invites her back to the penthouse, but she gives the excuse that she's going to check the apartment for clues to where Bruce has gone. It's not a complete lie, because she'd love to find some indication to where he's gone, but what she actually does when she gets in is lie down on the bed and try not to think about Tony's revelation.

Bruce's phone is in her pocket and she pulls it out to check the time. Just past six AM, and Bruce could be anywhere. She taps the phone against her chin and then goes into his phonebook. He doesn't have many contacts and Betty is right at the top. Maybe... 

Maybe he isn't trying to get to Ohio, maybe he wanted to see Betty, maybe he wanted her comfort...

She bites her lip and sighs. It's obnoxiously early to call, but... She sits up and hits call.

The line rings and rings, and she starts to build up a scenario in her head of Bruce being in bed with Betty and everything that entails until Betty answers.

“Bruce?” Betty says, and clears her throat.

“Dr Ross?” Jane says. “This is, uh, Jane Foster...”

Betty pauses for a moment. “Bruce's girlfriend?” she says.

“Yeah,” she says. “Um... have you heard from him?”

There's some rustling on the line, like Betty's moving around. “Not for a couple of weeks... Why?”

He's not in her bed then. She's not sure if she's happy or disappointed. “He's missing.”

“For how long?”

“Only a couple of hours, but... he got a letter from his father a couple of days ago, and he Hulked out, and he's been really upset since...”

Betty sighs. “Yeah, that would do it.”

“His father's trying to get released. Bruce said he'd kill him if he did. I just, I guess I was hoping that he'd gone to see you, and not... somewhere else.”

“No, I haven't seen him. Did he take his bag with him?”

“Not... that bag,” she says, “although he got something out of it, I don't know what though. And he took fifty dollars out of my wallet.”

“Okay,” Betty says, then pauses.

“I spent the last couple of hours driving around looking for him.”

“Mmhm,” Betty hums. “Well, he probably is trying to get to Ohio, but...”

“What?”

She sighs. “Well, when Bruce was a teenager... he had a drinking problem.”

Jane blinks. “What?”

“He didn't tell you,” Betty says, and sighs again. “Okay. When he was a teenager, he used to binge drink. He got it under control after he washed down a bottle of pills with vodka and had to have his stomach pumped. That was before we met.”

Jane grimaces, that sounds an awful lot like suicide to her.

“But the thing is,” Betty continues, “his father's a big trigger for him. He can go years without drinking, drink in moderation... but if he gets triggered, he can go right back to it.”

“How many times did that happen when you were together?”

“Maybe ten times, over the years. We had a really bad few months when his father got hold of our address and started sending very unpleasant letters. Bruce went off the deep end for a while, we almost split up.”

“Okay,” Jane murmurs. “Okay. Do you think that's what's happened now?”

“I think... probably. I'm sorry.”

“No, it's... I mean it's better than him going off and trying to kill someone, right?”

Betty hums. “That's true, although...”

“What?” Jane asks despairingly. What _else_ can there be?

“Well, when he's drunk he tends to get aggressive and picks fights with guys who are bigger than him.”

“Oh,” Jane mutters. “Okay, I... need to tell Tony.” She runs her fingers through her hair and gets up.

“Tony Stark,” Betty murmurs to herself. “Will you call me if you find anything out?”

Jane heads towards the door and nods absently. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good.” Betty pauses for a long moment and Jane's about to say goodbye when she speaks again. “He talks about you a lot,” she says.

Jane stops with her hand on the door handle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He's only had a couple of serious relationships in his life, he called me for advice when you first started dating.” Betty laughs a little. “It was cute.”

Jane sighs. “I hope that means he'll come back...”

“He'll come back,” Betty says. “He always does.”

Jane takes a breath and opens the front door. “Okay. Thanks. I'll... I'll call you later, okay?”

“Yeah, it was... nice to talk to you, even under the circumstances,” Betty says. Jane tries not to laugh too bitterly, and says her goodbyes.

She goes up to the penthouse again and knocks on the door, which Pepper answers after a minute. 

“Hi,” she says, reaching out and touching Jane on the arm gently. “Come in.”

“Sorry to come by so early. Again,” Jane says, shaking her head as she steps in.

Pepper waves her off. “I'm an early riser. Would you like some breakfast?”

“Maybe some coffee?”

“Have something to eat,” Tony announces, coming into the room, “we've got some really nice blueberry muffins in this morning.”

She shrugs. “Okay, sure. Tony, I've got to tell you something.”

Tony drops down onto the couch and gestures to it. Jane sighs and sits down carefully a few inches from him.

“You hear from Bruce?”

“No, but I called Betty Ross.”

“His ex?”

She rubs her hands up and down her legs. “She told me that Bruce had, or has, a drinking problem.”

Tony leans forward. “ _Really_?”

“Yeah, binge drinking. She thinks that the letter may have triggered him. She said that he... gets into fights and stuff when he's drunk.”

“Damn,” Tony mutters. “Okay. JARVIS, sent Bruce's photo around all the bars and liquor stores in the city and update the cops.”

“Yes, sir.”

“God,” Jane mutters, leaning back against the couch. Pepper taps her on the shoulder and hands her a cup of coffee and a plate with a muffin and some assorted fruit on it. Jane sighs and takes it from her. The coffee smells rich and strong and the muffin is _really_ good. “Wow,” she murmurs.

“Right?” Tony says. “We have a bunch, a happy investor sent them over.”

“I haven't had much to eat recently,” she mumbles, before she stuffs her face with the rest of the muffin and washes it down with the coffee. When she's done, Pepper has sat down on the arm chair across from the couch, and they're both staring at her. She covers her mouth with her hand and blushes. “Sorry.”

“Don't worry,” Pepper says, smiling kindly. Jane is suddenly reminded of Frigga; Pepper is so poised and regal, even in a loose sweatshirt and leggings. Like on Asgard, Jane feels guilty she invaded their space with her awkward, clumsy mannerisms.

“I should go,” she says, but doesn't move.

“What are you gonna do, sit in your apartment alone and worry?” Tony says, looking over at her.

She purses her lips. “Probably.”

“Well, how about we just all sit and worry together,” Pepper says with a slight smile.

Jane smiles back wanly. “Fun.”

She spends a while longer sitting on their couch, eating their food; everything is so fresh and tastes so good, she wouldn't surprised if every piece of fruit had been flown in directly from its country of origin. Pepper insists on taking the plate from her when she's done, and takes it to the kitchen, Tony yelling after her to bring him a muffin. When she comes back out, she tosses it at him, and it bounces off his head and falls onto the couch cushion. Jane gets up and shoves her hands in her pockets.

“I should really go now...”

Tony tuts and blows on the muffin. “Your blatant act of domestic violence is making Jane uncomfortable, Pep.”

Jane tries not to flinch and shuffles towards the door. “I just need a shower and stuff...”

Pepper glares at Tony and walks over to Jane. “Why don't you shower here?”

“It's okay, really, I can...” She doesn't even know how to finish, so she just shrugs.

“We have the fluffiest towels in the state,” Tony says. “Guaranteed or your money back.”

Pepper gestures across the room. “Come on.”

Jane takes her hands out of her pockets and rubs them over her face. God, she is really exhausted, it's about all she can do to stand on this spot. “Okay,” she murmurs with another shrug, and lets Pepper show her to the bathroom. 

They pass through Tony and Pepper's bedroom first, which is, of course, huge and minimalist in a high tech sort of way. “Wow,” she mutters.

Pepper smiles and shows her into the bathroom. “Towels are on the rack and there's lots of shampoos and conditioners in the shower.”

“Thanks,” Jane says quietly.

The shower is amazing, of course, because how could it not be in Tony Stark's apartment. She runs the water a touch too hot and scrubs her hair for several long minutes. When she gets out, she does her best to blow dry her hair straight, gets dressed again, and steps carefully back into the bedroom. She looks around, at the huge bed and the huger windows, and all the little personal touches, pictures of family, stuffed animals, an ugly embroidered pillow, and she feels like she's intruding but she keeps looking.

There's a knock at the door a minute later and she jumps.

“Jane?” Pepper calls. “Can I come in?”

“Um, uh, yeah, it's your... bedroom,” she trails off, as Pepper steps in. “Hi.”

“Hey, did the shower help at all?”

“Yeah, it did. Thanks.”

Pepper smiles. “Sorry about Tony, he's chronically tactless.”

“It's fine, I'm just... I'm really worried.”

Pepper nods. “Me too. I'd like to say that you get used to it, but... you don't. Being with people like Tony and Bruce is always stressful and nerve-wracking.”

“People like Tony and Bruce?” she repeats.

Pepper shrugs and sits down on the bed. “Fuck ups. Pardon my French.” She pats the bed cover next to her and Jane sits down, smiling a little.

“Takes one to know one,” she says. Pepper smirks and Jane starts. “Me, I mean. I'm the fuck up. Not... I didn't mean you.”

Pepper laughs. “Not everyone would agree with that. My parents, for two.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I'm an accountant by training. According to my father, I could have been an auditor for Deloitte, making lots of money.”

“Deloitte?”

“It's a big accounting firm.”

“Oh. But you're the CEO of Stark Industries, that must pay more than being an auditor.”

“Well, now it does, but all those years when I was a 'lowly' PA, or 'glorified secretary', as my grandmother liked to say, was not high paying enough for my parents' liking. I think it just killed them that I turned down Ernst & Young for Stark.”

Jane nods. “So, why did you take the job?”

“Because it wasn't a stuffy English accountancy firm; it was fun. I thought Stark was going places.” She smiles. “Not Tony, though, I thought he'd OD by the time he was thirty.”

Jane laughs for a moment, then takes a breath and looks at her lap. “Tony... Tony told me that Bruce used to be suicidal. I'm... I'm terrified that he's going to try to kill himself. Or that he already has...”

Pepper nods and rests her hand on Jane's shoulder. She doesn't say anything, and Jane keeps looking at her lap as tears swell in her eyes. She swipes at her eyes, setting her jaw against the threatening to fall, but when Pepper rubs her back they come anyway, and she starts to cry in earnest. Pepper leans over and hugs her at an awkward angle, and she's a bony, sharp-edged woman, just like Jane herself, but it's comfort nonetheless.

She cries for a couple of minutes before finally making herself pull back and pull herself together.

“Sorry,” she mutters, drying her face with her sleeve.

Pepper shakes her head. “Please, it's fine.”

Jane nods and swallows. “You remind me of Frigga, you know.”

Pepper blinks. “The Norse goddess?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, well. I can live with that.”

Jane smiles and takes a deep breath. “I'm going to go splash water on my face.”

Pepper nods. “I'll be in the living room with Tony when you feel like coming back out.”

They pass another couple of worried hours in the living room. Tony goes back out to drive around, but comes back alone, and Pepper's on the phone for most of the morning, which leaves Jane to sit by herself and chew on her nails. She checks her phone constantly, though the only phone calls she gets are the twenty from Erik. She doesn't want to answer and keep the line busy, so she sends him a text message to tell him that she can't deal with talking to him right now, and after a while he stops calling.

“Sir,” JARVIS says at midday. Tony stops pacing abruptly.

“Yeah?”

“Police in Harlem have arrested an unidentified white male, five foot six, approximately forty five years old, with dark curly hair.”

“Oh my God, that's him,” Jane says, jumping up from the couch.

Tony nods. “What was he arrested for?”

“Assault and possession of a firearm.”

Jane goes cold. “What?”

Tony grimaces. “Okay... JARVIS, is Bruce still at the precinct?”

“Yes, Mr Stark, he is currently being processed.”

Tony turns and looks at Pepper, who nods. “I'll make some morally questionable calls to my favourite city officials,” she says, then looks at Jane. “Can you go get Bruce's ID, we're going to go down there and try to get him released without being sent to Central Booking.”

“Okay... is it likely we'll be able to get him out?”

Pepper sighs. “Well, possession of a firearm is in most cases a felony, so I don't know.”

They set off ten minutes later, after Jane fetches Bruce's wallet. Tony drives and Pepper talks on her phone to various judges and police chiefs. Jane isn't really listening, but she does catch a lot of 'we'll do lunch's and a lot of shallow laughter from Pepper. By the time they pull up in front of the station, Pepper has charmed every official in the city, it seems like.

“We good?” Tony asks, opening his door.

“Yeah, we should be able to get him released,” Pepper replies.

Jane follows behind them, twisting her fingers together anxiously. As soon as they get into the station, there's a hush, as people turn and look at Tony and Pepper. They glide past like royalty as Jane scurries along with them.

“Hey,” Tony says, approaching a desk sergeant. “I think you picked up a John Doe a little while ago.” He sounds so professional and assured.

“Yeah...” the sergeant says carefully, narrowing his eyes a little.

Tony turns to Jane and holds out his hand for the wallet. She hurriedly hands it over and he pulls out Bruce's driver's license. “This him?”

The sergeant takes it and scrutinises it for a long moment. “Could be.”

“Can we see him?”

The sergeant sighs and waves a cop over. “Sure.”

The cop takes them to the holding cells, and Jane keeps her hands in her pockets and her head down. She's never been in a police station before, never mind the jail part. The cop stops at a cell and points to the heap sitting on the bench. “Hey,” he calls, banging the bars.

It's Bruce. It's Bruce with a swollen eye and cut lip, but it's still Bruce.

“Yeah, that's ours,” Tony says.

“Bruce?” Jane says.

Bruce glances at her, then looks at his lap. Pepper pulls the cop to one side and Tony pats Jane on the shoulder. “Hangover's are a bitch,” he says.

She nods, and looks back Bruce, who won't meet her gaze again. The cop shows them back out into the bullpen and Pepper starts filling out paperwork. Jane hears them talking about a 'desk appearance ticket', but doesn't pay much attention. Tony smiles a little.

“She's the smart one in the relationship,” he says.

Jane nods. “Yeah, that's obvious.”

It's another half hour of bureaucracy before they release Bruce. The cop tells him that he'll have appear at court to be arraigned, and he nods while looking at the floor. Jane doesn't approach him until they start leaving the precinct; he smells terrible, like booze and sweat and blood, and close up, his face is even more of a mess than she thought.

“Maybe you should go to hospital,” she says, reaching up to touch his mouth. He flinches away.

“'m fine,” he mutters, and shuffles towards the car.

“In you go,” Tony says, opening the door for Bruce. Bruce doesn't look at him as he gets in, and Jane goes around the other side to sit next to him. Pepper drives, and Tony sits turned to one side in the front passenger seat.

“So...” he says. “Anything to tell us?”

Bruce crosses his arms over his stomach and doesn't respond. 

“So, a normal day, all in all?”

Bruce doesn't react.

“You gave us kind of a scare, you know,” Tony presses.

Bruce swallows.

“Okay,” Jane says, and lays her hand on Bruce's back. He squirms a little but doesn't push her off. “That's enough.”

“Yeah, shut up, Tony,” Pepper says pleasantly.

Tony rolls his eyes and sits back. Bruce swallows again, then gags as the car hits a pothole.

“Bruce?” she murmurs. She rubs his back, and he throws up, just like that. It's mostly on his shoes, but a little on the floor of the car. “Uh...” she murmurs.

Tony looks round again and sighs. “Man, Pep, I owe you, like, a million apologies for all the shit I put you through.”

“Is that present tense or past tense 'put'?” she says, keeping her eyes on the road.

When they get back, she takes him up to the apartment. Tony and Pepper try to talk Jane into bringing him up to the penthouse, but she tells them she'll be fine. Bruce apparently doesn't have an opinion, since he hasn't said a word since they got in the car.

“Take your shoes off,” she says when they get in the door. He toes them off and she doesn't know what to do with them, so she leaves them there and pulls him into the apartment. He looks like an absolute mess, dried blood all over his face and t-shirt, which she now notices is in fact his pyjama top. He didn't even change out of his pyjamas... 

“Shower or bath?” she says. He shrugs. “Bath,” she decides, and pushes him towards the bathroom.

She starts running the bath and peels his clothes off, tossing them in the laundry hamper. Bruce has scratches on his neck and a bruise on his chest. “Jesus,” she mutters, and urges him into the bath. She grabs a wash cloth and wets it under the tap, then lifts it to his face.

He wraps his fingers around her wrist, stopping her hand. “Don't touch my blood,” he mutters.

“I haven't got any open wounds,” she says. She leaves her wrist in his grip, although it's so loose that she could easily pull away. “You're not bleeding any more, it's all dried.”

He stares at her for a moment, then drops his hand. She smiles and starts cleaning his face carefully. His right eye and cheek is swollen and shiny, and he has little nicks and scratches surrounding it, so she tries her best not to press too hard, though Bruce still flinches. She wipes away crusted up blood from his lip and cleans his neck, then gets the corded shower head and wets his hair. It's even greasier than before, and her fingers get tangled in it as soon as she starts soaping it up. She scrubs at it with shampoo twice, then has to rub some of her conditioner in to get rid of all the knots. Afterwards, she rinses him off and gets him out of the bath, dries him off, gets him dressed, then sits him down on the edge of the bath and gets some cotton wool and iodine out of the bathroom cabinet.

“What happened?” she asks, as she carefully wipes the disinfectant over all his cuts.

“Got into a fight,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I guessed, but how exactly?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I probably started it.”

“Okay,” she murmurs. She wipes a second coat of iodine over all his cuts for good measure, then sits back. “Let's sober you up, okay?”

She makes him a sandwich and gets him to drink some water, although he's passively resistant to both; he doesn't outright reject anything, but drags his feet and is generally despondent and uncommunicative. She wants to ask him what the gun was for, if he was trying to kill himself, if he's going to try again, but she doesn't want him to withdraw even further into himself, so she leaves it alone. She makes him drink all the water and eat the whole sandwich, and he does so in silence while she sits across from him and tries not to bother him.

“How are you feeling now?” she says when he's done and she's sprung forward to take the plate and glass.

He shrugs.

“What do you want to do now?”

He shrugs again and rubs at his good eye. “Maybe just sleep.”

She nods. “Yeah, sleeping it off is a good idea.” She gets up and waits for him and he moves slowly, shuffling into the bedroom. 

She pulls back the covers and he gets in, rolling over onto his side and drawing his legs up to his chest.

“Do you need anything?” she asks, fussing with the covers.

“No,” he mumbles, and turns his face into his pillow.

She keeps patting down the covers for a moment, then nods. “Okay, I'll... leave you in peace.”

He doesn't respond and she sighs and leaves the room quietly. She stands outside the door for a minute, listening for any signs of distresses, but everything's silent so she steps further into the room and looks around. Bruce's phone is still in her pocket, and after another moment's thought, she pulls it out and sends a quick text to Betty to tell her that Bruce is okay. For certain values of okay, at least. She tosses the phone on the couch afterwards and checks her own. She has one message from Erik: 'Can we please talk?'.

She wipes a hand over her face and sighs. She can't dodge him forever, she guesses. 'Sure,' she texts back.

She sits back down on the couch and leans her head back against the cushions. She hasn't had a good night's sleep in a couple of days, and she's just starting to drift off when her phone buzzes. She lifts her head and looks at it. It's another text from Erik.

'Can you come to my suite now?'

“Ugh,” she groans, and drops her head back again. A couple of minutes later she texts back that she'll come down, then slowly drags herself up from the couch.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, Dr Foster?”

“If Bruce tries to go anywhere, will you let me know? I'll be in Erik's suite.”

“Of course, Dr Foster.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Dr Foster.”

“Okay,” she sighs and grabs her keycard.

She rides the elevator down to the floor below and knocks on Erik's door. He opens up after a minute and lets her in. She's never been in here, she realises, and if she thought that she didn't make much of her apartment, then it's nothing compared to the sparseness of Erik's.

“Um,” she murmurs, looking around. All the original furniture is there, but it looks more like a show apartment than anything else. “How much time do you spend here?”

“Not much,” he says, and gestures to the couch. “I want to talk to you about Bruce.”

“Of course you do,” she says, sitting down.

He sits down beside her, his expression grim. “I've been down to the lab, it's been completely destroyed.”

“Yeah,” she says.

“I heard that you were in there with him when it happened.”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

She shrugs. “Bruce got upset, Hulk smashed some stuff, Hulk calmed down, end of story.”

“Why was he upset?”

“That's private,” she says.

Erik nods and clasps his hands in his lap. He doesn't know about what happened today, she realises, though how would he have? That's one less thing to get lectured about. “Jane, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Bruce could have _killed_ you, what are you doing with him?”

She narrows her eyes. “No, he _couldn't_ have killed me. Bruce has never acted even vaguely aggressive towards me, and neither did Hulk. Just the opposite, actually.”

Erik looks at her for a long moment, then nods again. “Do you like Bruce because he's bland?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, Thor had a big personality, for good or bad. Bruce... doesn't.”

Jane crosses her arms over her chest. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Erik scowls. “Just what I said. The men you date tend to be more confident, maybe even hyper confident. I've known Bruce a long time, and he's always been as bland and passive as he is now.”

“Just because you've known him a long time doesn't mean you know anything about him,” she says, although Erik's words conjure up images of the many times Bruce has gone along with her frankly ridiculous behaviour. Does she like that he does that?

“I know a lot's happened to you,” Erik continues. “To both of us, but is this what you really want? You seem more unhappy than ever.”

She stands up, crossing her arms tighter across her chest. “You don't know how unhappy I was before,” she says. “I'm going to go.”

“Jane...”

She shrugs. She doesn't even feel angry, just worn out, like settled on top of her like a blanket. Erik lets her go, and she goes back up to the apartment, checks on Bruce, who's still asleep, then sits down on the couch.

Erik is definitely right about one thing. This isn't what she wants.


	12. Chapter 12

She spends another night on the couch, tossing and turning and having indistinct nightmares. Her nightmares are full of Thor and her father and the Hulk – except she's the Hulk and Bruce is... hiding?

She wakes abruptly and rolls off the couch, hurrying to the bedroom door before she's even fully out of the dream. She pushes it open and looks in, blinking rapidly at the empty bed. The clock says it's three AM, it's still dark outside... She stares at the pulled back covers for a minute, then spins on her heel. If he's taken off _again_...

Bruce is standing in the kitchen doorway with a glass of water in his hand.

“Are you leaving again?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “You can have the bed...” he says quietly.

“I'm fine,” she says, and goes back to the couch. 

Bruce stands in the doorway for a moment, but she doesn't look at him and he returns to the bedroom. She lies back down on the couch, glaring up at the ceiling, listening to Bruce move around in the bedroom for a minute before she jumps up again and storms over to the door.

“Why did you have a gun?” she asks sharply.

Bruce is sitting on the bedroom; he blinks at her slowly. “I wanted to kill my father.”

“Where did you get it?”

He blinks again and looks over at the still open closet door with his bag lying half out.

“It was in there?” she says.

He nods.

“You had a _gun_ in our bedroom?” she snaps. “Was it loaded?”

He doesn't respond.

She narrows her eyes. “How did you get into the fight?”

He looks at her and still doesn't say anything. He looks at her with those big apologetic eyes, though one is swelled mostly shut. They were one of the first things she noticed about him when she got here, the thing that she found so attractive about him, but now... it just makes her angry. His gaze is so passive and far away.

“Bruce!” she snaps.

He looks at her for a second longer, then looks away.

She growls under her breath, and grabs hold of the door handle. “I think I preferred you when you were the Hulk,” she says as a parting shot, and slams the door closed.

She throws herself back onto the couch and goes back to staring at the ceiling. She listens out for a few minutes for sounds of Bruce coming to the door, and she contemplates going back and apologising for yelling, but neither of these things happen. Instead, she rolls over onto her side and squeezes her eyes shut.

She sleeps a dreamless, restless sleep and wakes up just a few hours later. She drags herself up and hears Bruce moving around in the kitchen. He's still here then, she thinks. She doesn't feel good or bad about that, she finds. She feels... dull, and tired, and unemotional for the first time in months.

She takes a breath and wipes her hand over her mouth. This is how she felt with Thor, at the end.

She gets up slowly and goes to the kitchen door. Bruce seems to be aimlessly fiddling with an empty candy bar wrapper. He hears her come in, she can tell, because his eyes flicker to the side for second, but he doesn't acknowledge her. She can't live in this vague in between state a second time.

“Bruce,” she says.

He glances at her again.

“Bruce!” Well, not all of her anger is gone, at least.

He turns and looks at her, then drops his gaze to the floor.

“We have to talk about what happened.”

“I don't wanna talk,” he mumbles.

“I don't _care_ ,” she snaps. “I spent most of the night looking for you! Me and Tony drove around New York at four am! I had to call your fucking ex girlfriend!”

He looks up quickly. “You called Betty?”

“Yeah, and she told me some things that you _never_ told me.”

He opens his mouth and closes it again, then looks away again.

“She told me that you used to drink and fight, which apparently you didn't think you needed to let me know.”

“I didn't...” He trails off and shrugs.

“Didn't what?”

He shrugs again.

“Do you know how much worry you put me through?” she asks, taking a step into the kitchen. He flinches. “Me and Tony and Pepper? We stayed up all night looking for you, Pepper called in favours to get you fucking released on a _gun possession charge_ , and you don't want to talk? You have nothing to say?”

He shrugs.

“Say something!” she shouts.

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, swallowing heavily. “Do you want me t-- to tell you all my dirty secrets? Do you want me to tell you that I tried to kill myself when I was seventeen because--” He makes a pained noise and Jane's heart clenches. “--because the older I got the more I looked like him? Some days I can't look in the mirror because all I see is him, I _hate_ the way I look and the way I sound, and I hate that I do the same work as him, and I hate that I'm so weak that I couldn't make myself go to Ohio and finish it.” He takes a wheezing breath, tears rolling down his face. “I hate that I'm turning into him and I can't even kill myself any more!” he shouts.

“Bruce...” she murmurs. God, why did she push him? She knew he couldn't do this, can't stand nasty arguments like this.

“I hate that you're with me because I'll ruin you,” he mumbles.

She rushes across the kitchen floor and wraps her arms around him. Bruce stiffens for a second, then slumps against her and start crying in earnest. He cries like a child, uncontrolled and incredibly painful sounding, and clutches at her t-shirt until his fingers dig into her skin. She rubs his back and squeezes him firmly, half holding him up because it feels like his knees are going weak. 

He cries for a good five minutes, though it feels like much, much longer. When he starts sucking in wheezing breaths, she leans back a little and looks at him. His face is bright red and damp, and he tries to duck away from her gaze.

“Do you want to lie down?” she asks.

He presses his lips together and nods. She leads him to the bedroom with one arm still firmly wrapped around his shoulders, and grabs a bunch of tissues before settling Bruce back down on the bed. He blows his nose and wipes at his face, then makes an embarrassed sound and looks away.

She sits down beside him. “How are you feeling?”

He sniffs and shrugs, then rubs his good eye and looks at her. “Tired. I'm really tired.”

She nods and scoots into the centre of the bed. “Come on,” she says, beckoning him to come with her.

He lies down and curls up against her, laying his head on her chest and sighing. “I'm sorry for shouting.”

“Hey,” she murmurs, running her fingers into his hair and scratching her nails against his scalp. “We were doing equal amounts of shouting, I think.”

“Mm,” he hums. She smiles to herself; Hulk and Bruce really aren't that dissimilar. “I'm still sorry.”

She yawns and closes her eyes. “Me too. Do you want to talk about it now?”

“I don't think I have the energy,” he mumbles.

“Me either,” she says. “Let's try to get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs.

-

She wakes up in the early afternoon, finally feeling halfway rested, with the dead weight of Bruce half on top of her. She kisses the top of his head and rubs her hand up and down his arm. He huffs and buries his face in her t-shirt. She lies there for a while, stroking his arm, until he snuffles and starts moving around.

“Hey,” she says, brushing hair from his face. “How are you feeling now?”

He rubs his face for a second, then groans. “My face hurts,” he mumbles. “And I feel sick. And hungry.”

“How much have you had to eat since...?”

He scratches his eyebrow. “Mm... I had that candy bar. And the sandwich you gave me yesterday...”

“Okay,” she says, pushing herself up onto her elbows, jostling Bruce. “I'm going to make us both some lunch.”

Bruce rolls onto his back and struggles to a sitting position. The swelling around his eye has gone down a little, revealing to beginnings of a livid purple and green bruise that looks even more alarming. He presses his fingers to it and winces.

Jane rolls off the bed and holds out her hand for his, which he gives readily. “Come on,” she says, and tugs him up.

She makes them both a stack of sandwiches, gets a bag of chips out of the cupboard to share, and leads Bruce to the couch. They eat in silence for a few minutes, Bruce wolfing down his first sandwich, and eating handfuls of chips before he slows down.

“Bruce,” she says.

He nods. “I know.”

“What happened?”

He wipes crumbs from his stubble and sighs. “I... I don't know. I had a... mental break or a really bad panic attack or something... I just knew I'd never be okay until he was gone. I decided that I needed to go kill him.”

“I'm still not happy that there was ever a gun in there,” she says.

“I know, I'm sorry. When I was... on the run, I felt like I needed it.”

“Okay, but you can't have it in here any more, definitely not loaded at the bottom of a bag.”

He nods. “I know, I'm sorry. I just... I don't know. I haven't been this out of control in a long time. Not as myself, anyway.”

“It's okay,” she says. “Then what happened?”

“I... I left the apartment.”

“You took fifty out of my wallet,” she adds and his face falls.

“Oh God, I did, I'm so sorry. God, I... I couldn't find my wallet.”

She smiles. “I figured. Go on.”

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, I... thought I might try to get a greyhound bus some of the way and then hitch hike, but then I passed a liquor store, and...” He shakes his head. “I hadn't drunk alcohol in almost a decade. I hate it, God, I hate how it tastes and I hate being drunk, but... I don't know, I went in there and bought a bottle of vodka and... I remember going to a bar and maybe getting into a fight with some guy but...” He shrugs. “I don't remember much else.”

“The cops picked you up in Harlem.”

He nods. “Yeah, I probably... Hulk caused a lot of destruction down there, so maybe I... I don't know. Apparently I'm able to navigate the subway system drunk though, so...” He smiles thinly. “Not exactly a marketable skill.”

“Well, you never know, with Tony,” she says.

The corner of Bruce's mouth quirks up for a moment before he sighs. “I'm really ashamed of myself, Jane.”

“Don't be,” she says. “I threw a phone into a river, you got drunk and arrested...” She shrugs. “It happens.”

He snorts. “Not to normal people.”

She smiles back. “Well...”

He takes her hand and curls his fingers around it. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You were so angry at me before...”

“That was before,” she says. “Before I... well, it feels kind of like today's the first time you've ever told me the truth.”

He squeezes her hand. “I've never lied to you.”

“No, but... you always seemed so... steady, so perfect, compared to me...”

He snorts. “What? I'm not-- No one's ever accused me of being perfect before...”

“Well, I don't think you're perfect any more,” she says with a smile.

“Good...” he murmurs.

She laughs and leans over to kiss him. He kisses back, but she can feel that his lip is swollen where it got cut, and he grunts and pulls back after a moment.

“Hey,” she says, lacing her fingers through his. “What you said before about hating yourself, is that... true?”

He nods. “It comes in waves, sometimes I only have one self-hating thought a day. I've mostly learnt to move past the crippling, paralysing part of it.” He says it almost off-handedly, like it's a joke.

Jane grips his fingers tighter and he smiles. “It's okay,” he says, “I've accepted that I look the way I do... for the most part.”

“I like the way you look,” she says, and leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, avoiding the cut. Bruce sighs and lays his other hand over hers.

“I should really apologise to Tony and Pepper,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” she says. “Why don't we go up there now?”

Bruce blinks. “What, right now?”

“Well, you can finish your sandwiches first...” she says.

-

Bruce drags his feet behind her when she takes him up to the penthouse. She knocks on the door and grabs his hand. He makes an unhappy sound and twitches his fingers in her grip.

Tony opens the door and grins at them. “Doctors! How nice to see you unincarcerated.”

“Can we come in?” she asks.

Tony steps to the side and holds out his arm.

Jane keeps hold of Bruce's hand as they come in, and Tony glances them pointedly. “Are things better now?”

“Getting there,” Bruce murmurs. “Uh. Tony, I'm... sorry for all the trouble I caused... everyone, really. You and Pepper.”

Tony waves him off. “What's a little felony charges among friends. And on that note, I have some good news.”

“What kind of good news?” Bruce asks carefully.

“The kind of 'the cops aren't charging you with anything' good news.”

Bruce glances at Jane then back at Tony. “How? What did Pepper do?”

Tony shakes his head. “Not a thing.”

“Then...” Bruce frowns for a moment. “Did... SHIELD...?”

Tony spreads his hands. “Our one-eyed overlord sees all.”

“That's...” He rubs his forehead. “I should be charged. What about that guy I got into a fight with?”

“He came away from the fight with a very nasty scraped knuckle.” Tony quirks an eyebrow and leads them over to the couch. “Seriously, your face looks like hamburger meat, he has a bandaid on his hand. He didn't want to pursue charges.”

“He didn't want to or he was forced not to?”

“Bruce!” Tony says, throwing up his hands. “Take the win, okay?”

Jane pats Bruce on the back. “Yeah, listen to Tony.”

Tony looks at her wide-eyed. “See, you even brought me and Foster together, Brucie. Drink?”

Tony tells them that repairs to the lab have begun already. Bruce cringes and looks away, and Tony makes some blithe comment about how it was due for an upgrade anyway. Bruce doesn't say much, but he eats the food Tony gives him and doesn't try to hide, so Jane figures those are good signs.

They leave in the late afternoon because Tony has an early dinner date with Pepper before she dives back into the backlog of work from her surprise day off. Bruce apologises three times for that.

“I think I need to see the lab,” Bruce says when they're back in the apartment.

“You sure?” she asks.

He presses his lips together and nods. “Maybe I'll regret it, but...” 

They get back in the elevator and ride down to the lab. The whole floor is take up with workmen and the sounds of drills and saws. Bruce steps around the people coming in and out and looks around. All the debris, desks, chairs, cabinets, have been removed, but the floor still has cracks in it and the walls are still dented and crumbling where the shelves came down.

“Oh God,” Bruce says, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Oh my God.”

“It's not that bad,” Jane says, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“It's pretty bad,” he says. “God, I destroyed everything Tony did for me.”

“It wasn't your fault,” she says.

“Who's fault was it then?”

She sighs. “I read the letter, you know.”

“So, did everyone, apparently,” he mutters.

Jane lets that slide. “Hulk didn't just smash stuff, you know.”

Bruce grimaces. “What else did he do?”

“He saved me from being knocked out by a falling shelf.”

Bruce blinks and looks over at the wall. “And who made the shelf fall?”

She sighs. “ _And_ he talked to me.”

Bruce looks at her and frowns. “He can talk? I mean, I know he can grunt some words, but...”

“Well, his syntax is pretty limited, but he knows how to speak. He told me that he keeps you safe, and that...” She smiles. “That you're short and fragile.”

“Oh,” Bruce says, and pulls a face. “How nice of him.”

“Then he told me that you're smarter than Thor and he's stronger, so my options were clear.”

Bruce snorts and tugs at his hair. “Anything else?”

She shuffles in closer to him, as he looks at her cautiously. “Well, he touched my face a bit, he was very gentle, and then he let me touch his and stroke his hair. That's when you started turning back, do you remember that?”

“Maybe...” Bruce squints. “Maybe a little. I remember that I wasn't alone.” He smiles at her shyly and she pulls him in for a hug.

“You're not alone,” she says.

He sighs and drops his chin to her shoulder. “Neither are you.”

-

Everything should go back to normal afterwards. Bruce isn't going to prison, Jane isn't feeling that strange empty space inside of her so much, they're not fighting. But things still feel different. She can't imagine them going back to the lab when it's fixed up and working on Tony's various sustainable energy projects with the interns. She can't imagine things going back to the way they were.

She starts having a lot more bad dreams. They're not nightmares as such, they're not as terrifying as ones she's had in the past, but there's a general sense of foreboding, suffocating, drowning in them.

Bruce has nightmares, though. Really bad, thrashing, crying in his sleep, nightmares. One night she wakes up from one of her own dreams, short of breath, only to find Bruce whimpering beside her. She debates whether to touch him or not, but he sounds so sad and lost that she can't leave him alone. He's on his side facing away from her, so she touches his arm gently and leans over him.

“It's just a nightmare,” she says quietly. “Bruce, shh. Bruce, it's okay.”

He sobs and presses his face into his pillow. She curls up against him and slides an arm around his chest, holding him firm. He keeps whimpering for another couple of minutes but eventually settles again, and she kisses him on the back of his neck and tries to get back to sleep.

A few days later, they have dinner with Tony and Pepper, which is... pleasant. Bruce's swelling has gone down a lot, leaving a really brutal looking bruise which draws all kinds of stares when they go out, which isn't often. Pepper looks at it a few times while they eat, but doesn't comment on it.

“Have you told them the good news yet?” she asks Tony when they get to dessert.

“Oh yeah!” Tony says, and stabs his piece of pie with a fork. “The lab's going to be up and running again next week!”

Bruce looks at Jane, then back at Tony. “That's... quick.”

“Well, we pay 'em a lot and they're the top contractors in the city.”

Bruce's expression is blank for moment, then he smiles thinly. “That's... great.”

“Don't everyone get excited at once,” Tony says with a roll of his eyes.

When they get back into the apartment, Bruce collapses onto the couch and sighs. Jane kicks her shoes off and sits down beside him, leaning back against him.

“You didn't seem very happy about the lab getting fixed up,” she says, taking his arm and pulling it around her shoulders.

“Mm,” he says.

“Mmmm?” she mimics, and tips her head back to look at him. “'Mm' isn't an answer.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I just, uh. I'm tired, you know.”

She doesn't say anything, figuring Bruce has more to say about that, and after a second, he continues.

“I mean... When I was younger, I had 'potential'. I got full rides to Harvard and Culver, I won science fairs, got sought after internships and jobs... and I thrived on it. I thrived on pressure, and I did ground breaking research, pulled all nighters. All that shit. But after Bio-Force, I just... I don't have that potential any more. I don't want to run the lab, I don't want to spend hours upon hours researching stuff. I'm just old and tired.”

She nods. She can certainly relate to that, the loss of drive. “Why did you agree to run it?”

He shrugs. “Tony wanted to help me out. I would have been happy with grunt work, but he gave me the lab and it seemed ungrateful to say no. But I'm no good at it, and I don't enjoy it. It's just... routine, monotony. There's something to be said for being transient. No routine, you can move on when you're bored, you're free...” He sighs and rubs his thumb over his eyebrow. “It took me a long time to feel free. I mean, it came at a high cost, but... I made my peace with that.”

“Okay...” she says, and twists her fingers around his.

“It doesn't mean I'm going to take off,” he murmurs. “I'm not going to take off. I promise.”

“I know,” she says. “I didn't think you were going to.”

She thinks about it after they go to bed, Bruce feeling free in his transience. The freest she ever felt was living in a van in the New Mexico desert. She'd just split from Don, coming away from it feeling guilty and depressed and full of doubt about her decision. Maybe she _was_ cold and unfeminine, maybe she _couldn't_ expect him to live under such conditions with her, even if he had apparently deemed her good enough to marry. But the RV was a world away from their apartment in Virginia and all Don's criticisms, and she easily forgot about him in her tiny kitchen and her tiny fold out bed and her tiny bathroom with the chemical toilet she had to empty every couple of days.

She browses the internet on her laptop while Bruce dozes beside her, searching Craigslist for motorhomes. The ones that she could even contemplate spending her, admittedly now rather comfortable, savings on are from the eighties and nineties, but she kind of likes that. They're kitschy and compact and she can already imagine how they'd live in one of them. She bookmarks a few, puts the laptop aside, and scoots down next to Bruce.

Bruce doesn't get up until mid morning. He's normally an earlier riser, but that's been tapering off recently. By the time he slopes out of the bedroom, she's been up for a couple of hours, looking through Craigslist and reminding herself on the procedures to register a vehicle. He showers, then grabs a handful of ice from the freezer, shakes them out into a flannel, and sits down on the couch, holding them to his face.

“Hey,” she says, “how's the face?”

“I slept on it too hard,” he says, and smiles a little. “It's throbbing a bit.”

She nods and looks at the computer on her lap. “Hey, Bruce?”

“Mm-hm?” he hums, turning his head towards her.

She taps her fingers on the plastic casing. “You know what you were saying yesterday about being transient?”

He frowns. “Yeah... I'm not going to act on it, I promise.”

“No, I know,” she says, and turns her laptop towards him. “But maybe you should. Or, we should.”

“What do you...” His gaze drops down to the screen, where she's got her favourite choice from Craigslist open, and lowers the ice. “Is that an RV?”

“Yeah. I used to live in one, when I was in New Mexico. I sold it when I left, but... I've miss it. What you said about being free... Dad used to take me on weekend trips in my granddad's camper van, we watched meteor showers and comets and... I loved it. I've always loved being on the road.”

“Okay...” Bruce murmurs, and leans in to look at the screen. “Are you suggesting that we just... take off?”

“Well, I mean, would you want to? We'd be at really close quarters with each other, like, all the time.”

Bruce reaches over and slides his finger across the track pad, browsing through the available pictures. “You want live like that with me?” he says softly.

“Yeah,” she says. “I do.”

Bruce raises his eyebrows and smiles. “I always thought motorhomes looked cool.”

-

With the lab being ready so soon, it kind of feels like there's a deadline on their departure. She emails a few sellers on Craigslist, sets up times to see them, and then her and Bruce go up to the penthouse to tell Tony their plans.

“So... you're planning to live in a van together, alone, away from everyone you know?”

Jane nods. “Yeah.”

Tony nods slowly. “I cannot imagine any way in which that might go wrong... So, what are you telling me?”

Bruce glances at Jane. “Well, I guess we're telling... asking you for sabbaticals?”

“Uh huh,” Tony says.

“I know it's kind of presumptuous of us...” Bruce murmurs.

“Presumptions everywhere!” Tony says, and drums his fingers against his chin theatrically. “Sure. Go off and be hippies in a VW or whatever.”

Jane grins. “It's a Chevy, actually.”

-

Bringing along a boyfriend who gives the impression of being a brawler seems to move things along pretty quickly, and they get the RV she wanted, with a dining area that folds away into a couch, a Murphy bed at the back, and a bunch of TVs mounted on the walls.

“This is so neat!” she says, looking around at their new RV.

Bruce grins and wraps his arms around her. “It's super neat,” he says.

The reception she gets from Erik is unsurprising, and she decides not to waste her energy arguing with him or trying to convince him that it's a good idea. She doesn't know if it _is_ a good idea, and she doesn't feel like proxy lying to herself by convincing Erik. It's what she wants now, and that's good enough.

She arranges to go out for coffee with Darcy a couple of days later. She hasn't told her anything yet, nor her mother, and she's a little nervous about having the conversation in a public setting, when Darcy has been known to announce her thoughts quite loudly, no matter the setting.

She found an apartment a few days ago, and moved in immediately. Jane didn't help, which makes her an awful person, but she's had a boyfriend in jail, and she isn't the only person in New York that Darcy knows.

Darcy talks about the new place for a while; she has a roommate who's a psych student, looks like a model, and has every season of every Star Trek series on DVD; she thinks they're going to get on pretty well. She doesn't let Jane gets many words into the conversation but Jane guesses she deserves that, being the champion of shitty friends.

“So...” Darcy says eventually, “what's new with you?”

“Well... me and Bruce are going away for a while.”

“Oh yeah, anywhere nice?”

“Um...” She fiddles with her hair and clears her throat. “We haven't actually decided where we're going to go first.”

“First?”

“We... bought an RV. We're gonna just... travel around for a while. We both need to change of pace.”

Darcy raises her eyebrows just like Tony had done, but lets it lie, just as Tony had done. Jane briefly considers telling more about Bruce and what's been going on recently, but she decides not to and instead discusses how cool travelling all around America is going to be. Darcy is pretty quickly taken with the idea.

-

They leave a week later. She gets all the paperwork for the RV sorted out, has Tony check it for them (it passes inspection, though he informs her it's a piece of junk about ten times), plus he retrofits the engine to run on one of the arc reactor power cells that they were developing in the lab, and packs up the stuff she wants to take. It's mostly clothes and books, the same as Bruce, along with computer stuff and official documents.

They have a small send off, to which both Darcy and Erik come to. It crosses her mind that Erik's going tell Darcy any time now about Bruce, but she decides that she can't control what other people do, and leaves them to it.

They leave in the early afternoon; she just picks a direction and starts driving.

“Where do you want to go first?” 

Bruce looks out the window. The RV sticks out like a sore thumb among the fancy cars and fancy people of Fifth Avenue.

“My mom always talked about us going to Maine. Her parents used to take her on holidays there, to the beach.” He pauses and looks back at her. “I didn't see a beach in real life until I was twenty five.”

“Maine it is,” she says.

It's early evening by the time they get there. The sun is starting to set, and they drive around for a while looking for a beach that's not crowded with people and kids. Eventually she finds a small beach that doesn't have any packing spots nearby and they have to climb down a bunch of rocks to reach. Neither of them have swimming costumes, but she digs out a pair of ugly cargo shorts for herself and Bruce rolls the hems of his pants up. She tries her best not to laugh at his skinny little ankles, and he stares pointedly at her match stick legs.

When they make it down to the beach, she pulls her shoes and socks off and digs her toes into the sand. Bruce stands behind her, staring out at the ocean.

She looks back at him and clicks her tongue. “Get your shoes off, I want to see those Hobbit feet of yours.”

Bruce pulls a face and bends down to remove his shoes. When he's got them off, she grabs hold of his hand and drags him towards the surf.

“I'm going to get my pants wet,” he says without much conviction.

She leads him into the water until it laps at their knees, then turns back to look at him. 

“My pants are wet,” he mutters.

She laughs and kisses his cheek. “So, what do you think of Maine so far?” she asks, stepping back and looking at the sun setting in the distance.

“I think... I wish I'd come here when I was a kid. My mom used to talk about it so much...” He trails off, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jane nods and watches him think it over, his brow wrinkling up and bottom lip press out as he does.

“Sometimes I get really angry at her,” he continues quietly. “I know I shouldn't. I know that abuse victims get trapped in relationships, I know that it was Ohio in the seventies, and my mom didn't have any friends or family, but...” He presses his lips together and rubs his hand over his face. “We never did any of the things she promised we would.”

She sighs and puts her arms around him. “I get angry with my dad sometimes. He was hit by a truck while driving. Didn't stand a chance. It was three am, the road was icy... Sometimes I think, how could he _not_ have realised that it was too dangerous to drive? Was the guest lecture he was giving the next day really _so_ important?”

Bruce kisses the top of her head. “Sorry.”

“And I get angry at Thor a lot, even though he probably doesn't deserve it. But... you probably already know that.” She looks at him, and he smiles.

“You get angry a lot,” he says. “I like that.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, it... speaks to something... inside me,” he drawls.

She drops her forehead to his chest and giggles, the kind of gross giggling that sounds like she's a snorting pig.

“You have such a dorky laugh,” he says.

“Hey!” she says, looking back up at him, blowing hair from her face. “You have a dorky... face.”

He pulls a silly expression. “It wasn't a criticism.”

“Oh, well...” She wrinkles her nose and he grins. “Then, thank you. I take back the face remark.”

He shrugs. “Nah, I do have a dorky face.”

She wraps her hand around his chin and gives it a little shake. “I like your dorky face.”

“I like yours too,” he says, the muscles of his jaw moving under her fingers.

The light is really starting to fade now, though she can still make out his face and the look he's fixing her with. She lets go of his chin, sliding her hand down to his neck.

“I love you,” she says, almost on a sigh.

Bruce bites his lips and presses his fingers into his skin. “I love you too.”

She leans in to kiss him, sliding her hand into his hair. The water laps at their legs harder, building up to a small wave that splashes up to their hips. She squeals and pulls back. Her underwear is soaked and she can feel her shorts begin to drag down, heavy with the weight of the water.

“ _Now_ my pants are wet,” Bruce says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I finally got through the backlog of chapters I'd already finished! One more chapter to go now!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this is the last chapter/epilogue, finally finished, and it's the longest of all the chapters! Enjoy!
> 
> **Warning: brief discussion of animal abuse.**

They stay in Maine for the week. Jane is bound and determined to make it the kind of holiday that Bruce imagined it would be as a child. First, that means buying swimsuits for the beach. After much back and forth, she eventually settles on swim shorts and a bikini top, and stares at herself in the mirror for at least five minutes in the RV later on, hands on her hips, willing her breasts to fill out the top just a little more.

“You look great,” Bruce says.

She hums. “Don used to say that there was no point in skinny women wearing bikinis.”

Bruce sighs and gets up. “Fuck Don,” he says, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“No, thanks,” she says, covering his hands with her own.

They go back to their mostly empty beach, which has more visitors in the afternoon sun but is still pretty quiet. Jane takes off her t-shirt, stuffs it into her bag, and pushes her shoulders back, trying her best to seem confident among the younger, tanner, prettier visitors to the beach. Bruce smiles at her.

“You look great,” he says. 

She sniffs and tries to flip her hair from face – some of it gets in her mouth. “I know,” she says.

It takes a couple of hours for Bruce to get up the courage to take his t-shirt off in public, and she sees a few people looking at his scar, but he seems not to notice, or pretends not to notice, anyway. She rewards him with ice cream from a nearby stand, and kisses him as much as she can while they swim – Bruce is a pretty weak swimmer, so they don't go far – and sun themselves. By the end of the day, the skin on her arms is red and she's got sunburn on her nose.

They stay for the sunset, sitting on their beach towels, the sky all pink and orange. Nearby there are a group of what she assumes are college students smoking what smells suspiciously like pot.

“Did you have fun?” she asks.

“I did,” he says, smiling. “It was...” He shrugs. “It was nice.”

“Yeah, and we haven't had enough of that in a while.”

He sighs and pulls his legs up his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “Yeah,” he murmurs, and rests his chin on his knees.

She shuffles closer and rubs his back. “Whatever happens with your-- with him, you'll be okay, you know.”

“It doesn't really feel that way,” he says quietly.

“I know, but... you're not a guy living hand to mouth in a slum any more. You have a lot of people who... care.” They might have told each other just last night that they loved each other, but it feels weird to bring it up again, somehow.

Bruce turns his head to her, his cheek against his knee, and smiles. “So do you. I'll scream on rooftops with you any time.”

She laughs and kisses him quickly. “I'm trying to cut down on that.”

He smiles again, then sits up and looks over at their pot smoking neighbours. “Wow, they're really going for it.”

“Is it bothering you?”

He looks back at her and shakes his head. “Nah, I've been known to... need some help relaxing in the past.” He laughs. “Actually, I was probably stoned for at least forty percent of my college career.”

She's not sure how to take that, though he's smiling. “Was that a...” She trails off as Bruce catches on.

“An addiction thing? No, drugs weren't my thing like that, it was the demon drink all the way.”

She nods. “Well... do you want to...?”

He looks over at the smokers. “What, ask them for a smoke?”

She shrugs. “Why not?” she says, and leans over to grab her wallet, kissing him in the process. “I can be convincing.”

“Do you even smoke?”

She stands up and brushes some of the sand off her bare legs. “I'm not the princess people think I am, Bruce.”

She waves to Bruce as he watches her, looking slightly bemused, and walks over to the boys. She has to clear her throat to get their attention, since they don't notice her standing there. They're pretty away with the fairies, she figures.

“Oh man, are we disturbing you guys?” one of them asks. He looks like a total frat boy. “We can move.”

She kneels down beside them. “Don't worry, we're fine. I was actually wondering... could I buy one of those from you.” She points at their carton of definitely not tobacco cigarettes.

Frat boy's friend, who looks a little like Jesus, frowns. “You a cop?”

“Do I look like a cop?”

Jesus shrugs. “Cops come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Well, I'm a scientist.”

Their third friend, who has Chinese symbols tattooed on his arm that Jane would bet money don't say what he thinks they say, pipes up. “What kind?”

“Astrophysics.”

“Like, stars and shit?” Frat boy asks.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Shit,” Frat boy says. “So, like, do you know stuff about aliens?”

“Aliens don't exist!” Jesus exclaims.

“Well, what about fucking... fucking Thor, man. He's an alien.”

Jesus rolls his eyes. “He isn't an alien, moron!” 

Frat boy looks at Jane. “You're the scientist. Is Thor an alien?”

“Well,” Jane says, and clears her throat again. “Yeah, he is.”

“Fuck yeah!” Frat boy says, and high fives her while his friends mutter irritably. “You know what, you can have a joint for free.”

“Hey...” Tattoo guy says.

Frat boy waves his hand dismissively. “Your brother grows them in his basement, man, it's not like we even paid for it.” 

He hands over the joint and Jane sticks it in her mouth. “Can I get a light?”

He lights the joint and she says goodbye to them, walking back over to Bruce. “See?” she says, passing the joint to him. “I'm convincing.”

-

She's seen Bruce laugh before, but when he's high, he giggles like a lunatic. The boys tell them that the cops are coming to patrol the beach a little while after they start smoking, so they head back to the RV, both giggly and stumbling a little. It's a good thing that the cops aren't around, because she's pretty sure they'd get in trouble for public intoxication.

They jump in the shower together to wash off the sand, sloppily kissing under the spray, then get dressed and move their making out to the bed.

“Your t-shirt's inside out,” she murmurs, kissing his chin.

“Oops,” he mumbles and grins. She leans over and kisses up his jaw and he buries his face in the blankets, giggling.

“Is everything funny to you right now?”

“Tickles,” he mumbles into the blanket.

“That's because you haven't shaved,” she says, and blows a raspberry on his cheek.

He squirms and rolls onto his back, his cheeks pink with laughter. She cuddles up against him, sliding her hand up his inside out t-shirt and mouthing at his neck. Bruce laughs breathlessly and she tickles his stomach to make him laugh harder and squirm around even more; she's more interested in hearing his peals of giggling than the actual making out. She's horny, but in a loose kind of way, none of that pent up aggression/frustration she usually has.

Bruce sighs happily and wraps his arm around her waist. She lays off on her tickling and throws a leg across his.

“I think leaving New York was a really good idea,” she says, nuzzling against his neck.

“Yeah,” he says, and starts running his fingertips up and down her arm, bringing up goose pimples. “And the pot, the pot was a good idea.”

“We're so clever,” she murmurs.

-

They find a dog on the side of the road. Jane's driving, it's the middle of the night, and Bruce is reading a book in the passenger seat. They're driving down an interstate in Minnesota, with almost no one else on the road with them, headlights lighting their way. After a while, Bruce puts his book down on his lap and looks out the window. It's relaxing, driving on a long stretch of road like this, where she doesn't have to think about other drivers, and she's focused on it so much that it takes her a minute to notice that Bruce is no longer sprawled out in his seat, but leaning forward, squinting at the road.

“I think there's an animal on the road,” he says.

“It's probably a fox.”

“It's not moving, foxes run away from cars...”

It's probably a dead fox, she thinks to herself but doesn't say.

“Pull over?” Bruce asks.

She holds back a sigh. It's one in the morning and she'd like to get somewhere where they can park and sleep, but Bruce looks worried, and she can never deny Bruce when he's worried. “Sure,” she says, and starts to slow down.

When she stops, Bruce grabs a flashlight from the glove box and opens the door to shine it at the brush at the side of the road. “I think it's... It's a dog.”

“It's a dog?” she repeats. “Is it... alive?”

“I don't know...” he murmurs. “Can you, uh, get me a towel and... some chicken from the packet in the fridge?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, turning off the engine and going to fetch the things he asked for.

When he has them, he gives her the flashlight to shine at the dog, and gets out of the RV slowly. She points the flashlight where he tells her, and she can see the little furry heap. It doesn't look well and it's not even moving. Bruce approaches slowly, holding his hands out placatingly.

“Don't be scared,” he murmurs. He puts some of the chicken down on the ground and the little heap twitches.

“It's alive,” she whispers urgently.

The heap creeps forward and grabs the chicken, wolfing it down ravenously. Bruce picks up the towel and throws it over the distracted dog, quickly bundling it and the chicken up. The dog yelps indignantly, but Bruce has a firm hold of it and climbs back into the RV. He closes the door behind him and takes the dog into the bathroom, Jane close at his heels.

“Is it...?”

He hums and unwraps the towel carefully. The dog whimpers and looks up at them with weepy eyes. It's a scrubby looking thing, with matted hair and bald patches, and a tight collar that's rubbed its neck raw and bloody. 

Bruce sighs. “He...” He picks the dog up – its small enough to be held pretty comfortably in two hands – and looks at it. “She. She's been tied up for a long time.” 

Jane winces. “Do you think she was used in dogfights?” 

“If she was, it was as bait...” he murmurs.

They have to cut the collar off, and they wash her and feed her, and Jane drives until three am before finding somewhere for them to park. She goes to bed thinking that the dog's going to be dead by morning, while Bruce stays up and fusses over it, but it's still alive the next morning and it's alive a week later after a thorough check up by a vet and whole bunch of shots and procedures, and it's alive a month later, when they're the unwitting owners of a sandy coloured, yappy mutt that pees on all of Jane's blankets.

They name her Helix.

-

Bruce puts up a very good pretence that he's forgotten his birthday is coming up, and Jane is super sneaky about hiding things from him. On the morning of the eighteenth, she pretends like everything is normal and elects to take Helix for a walk through the falling snow of the small Montana town that they've stopped in. On her walk she takes a detour to a bakery, where she'd special ordered a birthday cake. It's kind of difficult to get hold of the cake, because Helix shrieks and cries if she's left tied up anywhere and Jane can't go in with her, but one of the staff members takes pity on her and brings it out.

When she gets back to the RV, she listens at the door and hears the shower going. Perfect timing. She comes in quietly and lets Helix off the leash, then opens up the box and start adding candles. Her first thought had been to put forty five candles on it, but that seemed kind of mean. Instead she just has one packet of twelve and she tries to arrange them attractively around the flowery patterned cake. She gets their barbecue lighter out of a drawer, and listens for a couple of minutes until she hears Bruce moving around in the bathroom. He always does his teeth first, so she knows he'll be coming out in a minute. She quickly lights the cake and creeps over to the door, Helix following excitedly.

“Don't ruin this for me,” she whispers, and stations herself to the side of the door.

A minute later, the door opens and she thrusts the cake out. “Happy birthday!” she says.

He looks at her, then at the cake, then shuts the door in her face. Helix yaps.

“Uh...” Jane murmurs, looking down at the dog.

The door reopens. “Sorry,” Bruce says, looking embarrassed.

“Um... do you want to blow out the candles?” she asks.

“Sure,” he says, and bends a little to blow them out. It takes him a little while, because some of the candles just refuse to go out, but he gets there in the end.

“I'm going to put it down now...” she says.

“I'll get dressed,” he replies.

A couple of minutes later, he comes back out of their curtained off bedroom in a t-shirt and jeans, and approaches her sheepishly.

“Sorry for that,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I was just... surprised.”

“Should I not have got a cake?” she asks. “I just... I didn't want to make a big deal about it, but it seems sad not getting a cake.”

“No, it's...” He shrugs. “I used to be really touchy about it, me and Betty didn't do anything for it, but... I like cake.” He smiles and shuffles closer to her. “Sorry.”

“Hey, it's fine,” she says, and hugs him. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, pressing his nose into her shoulder.

“Cake first or present?”

She feels his stubble brush against her neck .“Mm... present,” he decides.

She retrieves his present from where she hid it in her suitcase and gives it to him. She sucks at wrapping, and it's just cheap paper from a drugstore, but he still stops and looks at it, turning it over in his hands a couple of times.

“I haven't got a wrapped present in a while,” he says, and finally tears it open. He grins at it for a second before lifting it out of its wrapping. “A plaid shirt!”

“I said I'd get you eventually,” she says.

They eat some cake and feed the dog and Jane washes up a pile of dishes that have been sitting in the sink for a couple of days. It's starting to snow more heavily outside and according to the weather report, it's not likely to let up before Christmas. Bruce excuses himself to the bathroom while she's browsing the internet, Helix on her lap, and she barely responds.

A couple of minutes later, she hears a funny hiccuping sound. She ignores it and goes back to browsing Darcy's Facebook page when it comes again. Helix hops off her lap and goes over to the bathroom door. She starts to sniff underneath it, then whines and looks at Jane. She puts the laptop aside and goes over.

“Bruce?” she says, putting her ear to the door. She can hear that hiccuping sound clearly through the door. “I'm coming in.”

She opens the door and Helix rushes in first, finding Bruce sitting on the closed toilet seat, and starts licking his hands and whining. He smiles and wipes at his damp, red face. 

“It's okay, Helix,” he says thickly, reaching down to stroke her.

“What happened?” Jane asks, stepping into the room and kneeling down in front of him.

He sniffs and wipes his nose. “Tony texted me.”

“Oh, I can see why you're crying then,” she says, then clears her throat. “Sorry.”

He chuckles a little. “It's not bad, it's just...” He gives her his phone, and she looks down at the screen.

Tony's text reads, 'happy bday doc! the best gift i could give u: your father died over the weekend'.

“Oh, Bruce,” she says, “that's... good news, isn't it?”

Bruce nods, then starts crying again, burying his face in his hands.

“Why are you crying?”

He shrugs. “I don't _know_ ,” he says plaintively. Helix puts her ears back and whines. “I feel like... I'm alone now.” He lifts his head again. “That's fucking psychotic, isn't it? To think that?”

“Well...” It does sound pretty crazy to her, but then she had a good childhood, perhaps even bordering on idyllic before her father's death. “I think... there's no wrong way to feel about this.”

He sniffs. “Very diplomatic,” he says, with a shaky smile.

“Thanks.” She leans over and kisses him on the forehead. Bruce hiccups again and she wipes his cheeks with her sleeve. Helix whines some more and jumps up to join in with the drying of Bruce's face. He laughs and scoops her up.

He hugs Helix to his chest and sniffs again. “This is what I've wanted my whole life,” he murmurs, “why aren't I happy?”

“Come on, you only just found out,” she says, reaching up and stroking his hair, “give it some time. Give yourself a break for once, okay.”

“Why?” he asks bitterly. “Life never does.”

“ _Bruce_ ,” she says sharply. He looks at her, scrunching up the corner of his mouth. “Really?”

“Mm, that was a bit more self pitying than normal...” he says, smiling a little. “Sorry.”

She sighs and kisses his forehead again. “You want me to call Tony and found out what happened?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, resettling Helix in his arms. “That would be good.”

She phones Tony and finds out that Brian died in the early hours of Sunday morning, in his sleep, from a heart attack. Bruce is in the back, on their bed, playing with Helix, so Jane drops her voice and asks Tony if he really thinks that's what happened. Tony asks if it really matters, which she guesses it doesn't. 

Since it's been ruled a death by natural causes, the state is moving right on to cremation in a couple of days, and Tony suggests strongly that she does not let Bruce go to Ohio, if he somehow got it into his head to do so. She tells him she'll do her best and gets off the phone a couple of minutes later.

Bruce is still playing with Helix when she goes into the back, teasing her with a chewed up squeaky toy. 

“He's being cremated in a couple of days,” she says. “He died from a heart attack on Sunday morning.”

Bruce nods without looking at her. “I think you, uh... you're gonna need to watch me. I feel like I'm gonna... go out and do something really stupid...”

She sighs and sits down on the bed. “Betty said that your father was a big trigger for you.”

He glances at her and smiles a little. “She did always know more about me than I did.”

The afternoon goes pretty quietly. Bruce stays in the bedroom mostly, sleeping, and Jane takes Helix for a couple of quick walks around the RV, keeping close in case Bruce tries to take off. He doesn't, though, and wakes up around seven. She lets him get a handle on himself and stays out in the living area, on her laptop again, reading about Darcy's grad school exploits. She hears Bruce shuffle around in the bedroom, and after a few minutes, he comes back out and stands in front of her.

“Can I show you something?”

She puts her laptop aside and smiles. “Sure.” Her eyes drop to his hand, where he's holding a piece of paper, rubbing his thumb over it anxiously. “What's that?”

He shifts from side to side, then hands it over to her. It's not paper, it's a photo. A faded, pink toned photograph of a young man with curly hair and a boyishly round face. He's smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He looks... just like Bruce.

“This is Brian,” she says, looking up at Bruce. “Isn't it?”

Bruce nods and gestures vaguely at it. “It's the only one... I burnt the rest of them.”

She nods and looks back at it. “Why did you keep it?”

“I...” He shrugs. “I don't know.”

“Okay...” she murmurs. His father can't be more than his mid twenties in the picture, the image of Bruce when he was TAing her class. Except he has none of Bruce's softness, Bruce's apologetic eyes. This man may look like Bruce, but only on the surface. “I have an idea.”

She gets up, and Bruce shuffles his feet a little. “What?”

“Sit down,” she says, gesturing to the couch. She goes over to the kitchen and retrieves the barbecue lighter from the drawer, then goes into the bedroom and empties out a metal waste basket into a plastic bag. She pulls her suitcase out next, and digs around for a couple of minutes before finding the notebook she's looking for. She collects everything up into the basket and comes back to the living area.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asks. Helix has firmly curled up on his lap.

She puts the basket down in front of him. “Hang on,” she says, and grabs a chair, dragging it over to the fire alarm. She stands on it and pulls the battery out of the alarm, then pockets it and hops off. Bruce is flicking through her notebook, brow furrowed.

“This is... kind of crazy,” he says, glancing up at her.

“Yeah...” She sits back down beside him. “I felt pretty crazy at the time.”

“This is... research on the Einstein-Rosen bridge?” Bruce asks.

“You could say that.” In the weeks and months after Thor left the first time, she did nothing _except_ research, coffee-fueled, sleep-deprived research that led to scratchy, incoherent notes in her notebook, half of it crossed out as if she was stabbing the paper, page after page torn out. Even though she hasn't looked at it in years, she hung onto it, bringing it from New Mexico to London to New York to, now, Montana. She leans down and picks up the lighter and the photo. “You want to do the honours or should I?”

He takes the photo and looks at it, mouth pursed, then takes the lighter from her and lights the corner of the picture. The flame takes hold quickly and he drops it into the basket. The cover of the notebook smoulders for a moment, then takes light.

They watch the tokens burn, like some kind of sacrifice to the God of abuse and shitty pasts. 

“Bye, Brian,” Bruce mutters. She can't quite bring herself to say, 'bye, Thor'. Bye, years of research, bye, Einstein-Rosen bridge...

The photo is long gone now, but her notebook keeps going, flames licking up the side of the basket. Bruce hums, then looks at her. “Um, I'm gonna get a glass of water to put this out...”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, shifting away from it and picking up Helix from his lap. “Maybe we shouldn't set the RV on fire.”

“Maybe not,” Bruce says, and smiles.

-

They're effectively snowed in at a trailer park for Christmas. They have a little Christmas tree sitting on the kitchen counter that Jane picked up at the last minute, and a yule log that they bought from the supermarket. She sits on the couch, Bruce's head in her lap, Helix on his stomach, and listens to the occasional soft thump of snow on the windows.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” she asks, stroking her fingers through his hair. He's stroking Helix, she's stroking him... She smiles to herself.

“I did,” he says softly. “Christmas isn't usually my thing, but it was nice.”

“It isn't mine, either,” she says, but that's because she's Jewish. Bruce is a very (very, very, very) lapsed Catholic. “The last time I actually celebrated it was... with Don's family.”

“Ugh,” Bruce murmurs, then purses his lips. “Sorry.”

“No,” she says, “it was pretty ugh. One tiny Jew surrounded by very... Christian Christians.”

Bruce laughs. “So, what's the deal with this Don guy? He doesn't seem to have a single redeeming factor.”

“Oh,” she sighs, dropping her head back against the couch. “Well... He was tall and handsome and blond. I was... plain. Short, no boobs to speak of, poorly dressed...” Bruce makes a sound which she ignores. “It felt great, him being interested in me. When we first started dating, I got completely wrapped up in him. We didn't talk that much but... we did all the other stuff, which I'd been sorely lacking for years. And... he seemed really smart. Worldly, unlike me. We moved in together after two months of dating.”

“That's pretty fast,” Bruce says. “Although...”

“Twenty four hours of dating is definitely my record,” she says, and leans down to kiss him. He pushes himself up a little and Helix stands up and presses her wet nose into the side of Jane's face.

She laughs and sits back. “I think Helix would prefer that you stay still.”

Bruce mock glares at the dog, who lies back down again, this time higher up on his chest, and stretches out her paws.

“So?” he prompts after a moment. “What happened?”

“Well...” She drops her hand back into his hair. “He was always kind of critical, but honestly I didn't even pick up on it for a long time. I'm not... always observant about that stuff. But after a couple of years it started getting obvious, even to me. We'd be going out somewhere and I'd be ready, and he'd say stuff like, 'we can go once you're done', and I'd say, 'I am', and he'd be like, 'oh...'. He always pointed out when I looked tired, and I was working for my PhD, so I was tired a lot. And since I was working a lot, I didn't tend to keep up with current events, and he'd make me feel stupid for not knowing about the political situation in wherever, or that property prices were crashing or rising or whatever. It was just really dumb stuff like that. Whenever I'd tell him I didn't like his behaviour, my complaints sounded so petty.”

“It doesn't sound petty,” Bruce says. “It sounds like he was trying to wear you down.”

She shrugs. “Maybe. I don't think he put that much thought into it. He could be pretty thoughtless. And... he'd get on at me about not being feminine enough – we went to this party for his parents' thirtieth wedding anniversary, and I wore jeans because I didn't have anything else, and he said 'it wasn't really appropriate'. I didn't like having to spend lots of time with his sister's kids and he said I'd have to learn how to deal with kids 'in time'. His mom trotted out the whole 'it'll be different when it's your own' thing. Thor asked me about 'Midgardian fatherhood' a lot too... And then there was the time he proposed...”

“Mm,” Bruce murmurs. She guesses that he remembers this from the her argument with her mother.

“He took me to this really fancy restaurant, so I really should have guessed what was going to happen. Fancy places make me feel really uncomfortable, as you know... He did the whole thing, expensive meal, wine, ring in the dessert. He got down on one knee, and the staff turned the music down, and everyone in there was looking at us. It was _awful_ , it was like my whole life was on display, like all these people I didn't know became involved in something so personal to me, like they had a say in my decision. I being pressured like that, it makes me feel like I'm suffocating... I mumbled something about needing time, ran out of the restaurant, and a couple of days later we were done.”

“Can't say I'm sorry about that,” Bruce says. “For a lot of reasons.”

She smiles and starts rubbing her thumb just above his ear. He hums happily. 

“Yeah, me either. Would've been nice if all our friends hadn't turned on me, though. I mean...” She sighs. “They weren't really my friends, they were his friends who talked to me at parties sometimes. They all heard about how he'd taken me out somewhere fancy and bought me an expensive ring and then I'd dumped him like the cold bitch I am.”

Bruce tips his head back to look up at her. “You're not either of those things...”

She shrugs. “I can be. People take my self-absorption for coldness, I think.”

“You're not self-absorbed,” he argues.

She rolls her eyes. “Well, we'll agree to disagree, okay?”

“Mm,” he hums, screwing up his face.

“Have you ever proposed to someone?” she asks. “Or been proposed to?”

Bruce sighs. “Yeah, once. I proposed to Betty.”

“And?” She's pretty sure they weren't engaged when Bruce had to run, so she can't imagine that this is going to be a happy story.

“And... she said no.”

She nods. “How did you propose?”

“I...” He grimaces. “I took her somewhere fancy and got down on one knee in front of everyone... In my defence, I thought it would be romantic and I'm not that smart.”

She clicks her tongue and cuffs his chin lightly. Bruce laughs.

“We didn't break up,” he continues. “We just could never agree on whether to have kids or not. She wanted them, I didn't. Don't. Back then it was just a psychological thing. Now...” He shakes his head. “She said we couldn't get married until we worked it out. She wasn't wrong.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Well, you don't have to worry about that with me.”

Bruce smiles. “And I won't jump a proposal on you in a crowded place,” he says. The comment hangs in the air for a moment, and Bruce goes very still.

She laughs a little nervously and Bruce looks back down at Helix, stroking her again. Commitment within a relationship has never been something she's good at, or something she prioritised. She committed so much of herself to her work, there wasn't much of her left to go around. People just always seem so needy to her. And in a lot of ways, Bruce is the neediest person she's ever met but... it hasn't annoyed her thus far.

“Deal,” she murmurs, smoothing her palm over his hair, and a smile slowly spreads across his face.

-

Living in an RV, Jane gets used to waking up suddenly and not knowing why. Usually it's the sound of traffic or drunk people coming through the thin walls of the vehicle, or the wind rattling the windows, or raccoons scratching outside, or a nightmare – either hers or Bruce's – and she drifts back to sleep pretty quickly.

Tonight, though, she knows exactly what woke her, and Bruce, and Helix, up. Someone hammering really loudly on the door of the RV. Like, really, _really_ loudly.

She looks at Bruce, who's sitting bolt upright, head turned towards the door, fingers clutching the covers. It's dark, and her eyes haven't adjusted yet, but she thinks the odds are high that his eyes are green. Helix creeps under the covers and starts making a 'rrrr' sound. The hammering starts up again, hard enough and loud enough that the RV shakes a little.

Jane taps Bruce on the leg. He looks at her and she points to the night stand, where his cell phone is lying. “Call 911,” she whispers.

Bruce nods and picks up the phone, dials the number and holds it to his ear. She strokes Helix as the hammering continues and Bruce's eyebrows draw together.

“They're busy,” he says.

“They're... busy?” she repeats, and is punctuated by another RV-shaking thumping.

“Mm-hm,” he hums, mouth getting pinched.

They sit there for a couple of minutes, listening to the hammering at the door and hanging on the phone, until Jane shakes her head and slides out of bed.

“What are you doing?” Bruce hisses, dropping the phone.

She shakes her head. “Get the flashlight.”

Helix's 'rrr'ing gets louder as they both leave the bed. Jane kneels down beside it and feels around for the baseball bat she keeps under there for just such occasions as this. Her heart is pounding like a jackhammer, but she tamps down on it as much as she can.

Bruce switches the flashlight on, keeping it pointed towards the ground, and she holds her hand out for it. He tries to take the bat from her when he gives it over, but she shakes her head and points at Helix. “Get the dog,” she whispers. Cowardly as Helix is (with good reason), Jane can't shake the feeling that if they open up that door, she's going to bolt out of the RV and never be seen again.

Bruce picks Helix up, cradling her with one arm, and Jane points at the door vibrating from the abuse it's suffering.

“Open the door and I'll...” She swings the bat slightly.

“I should be the one with the bat,” he whispers back.

“No, I don't want you Hulking out in the van if we can help it. You're the last resort. Come on.”

She creeps across to the door, holding the flashlight and bat like cops do with flashlights and guns in movies, and gesture for Bruce to get ready to open it. They have a silent argument, mostly with pointing and facial expressions, along with Helix's quiet growling, but Bruce finally acquiesces, holds Helix firmly to his chest, and takes hold of the door handle. Jane puts the flashlight on the floor, and lifts the bat higher, then nods to him. He pulls the door open and she swings before taking in the scene. A hand reaches out and easily stops the bat's trajectory.

Jane blinks and looks at the visitor. “Sif?”

“Sif?” Bruce repeats, and peers around the door.

Sif pushes the bat down. “I'm sorry if I caused you distress, Lady Foster.”

“Uh huh,” Jane murmurs, and turns the lights on, switches the flashlight off, and puts the bat down. “Hammering on your door at four am is pretty distressing.”

“Apologies,” Sif says, then stares at her. 

Jane looks back at Bruce, whose eyes have gone wide, then at Sif. “Uh, do you want to come in?”

Sif smiles widely. “Yes!” she says, and immediately steps up into the RV. She seems comically large in the cramped surroundings, and towers over both of them. Helix chooses this moment to find her voice again and starts yapping.

Sif looks down at her quizzically, and reaches out to touch her. Helix has a habit of snapping at strangers that get too close to her, but she settles down when Sif starts stroking her and even seems to enjoy the attention.

“We do not have tiny beasts like this on Asgard,” Sif says, glancing up at them. “A pity.”

“She's a dog,” Bruce says. “Her name's Helix.”

Sif nods, still absorbed in Helix, who's now licking her hand.

“And, uh, this is Bruce,” Jane says, gesturing to him.

“Ah, yes.” Sif looks up from the dog to the human still holding her. “The scholar who keeps his warrior on the inside.”

“Well... that's one way to put it,” Bruce says. “Do you want to... sit down?”

“Thank you,” she says, and manoeuvres around to their small couch while Jane closes the door behind them. Sif sits down carefully on the couch, and Jane notices for the first time that she has blood on her armour.

“Did you hurt yourself?” she asks, pointing to the blood.

Sif looks down at where Jane's pointing. “Oh, that's not my blood. I may have unwittingly started something of a riot in a local drinking establishment. I also ended it, however.”

“So, that's why 911 was busy,” Bruce murmurs.

Jane glances at him, then back to Sif. “So... what brings you here?” she asks, and leans against a table. Bruce sets Helix down and she immediately goes over to Sif, wagging her tail like a helicopter, then hops up onto Sif's lap.

Sif starts stroking her again. “Odin sent me.”

Jane crosses her arms over her chest. “Uh huh,” she says, and glances at Bruce. “What does he want?”

“He did not share that with me. He tends not to.”

“But whatever it was, it so important that I had to be violently woken up at four in the morning?”

Sif shrugs. “It is not four in the morning on Asgard.”

“Well, that explains everything,” she says.

“He wishes to see you presently,” Sif replies.

Jane looks at Bruce again. His eyebrows are creeping up his face. “Well,” she says, “I don't want to see him. We're not really on friendly terms.”

Sif sighs and starts scratching Helix behind the ears. “That... was not presented as an option to me.”

“What does that mean?” Bruce asks sharply.

“It means... that Odin is anxious to speak with the Lady Foster.”

“And if I refuse to go?” Jane asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you going to force me?”

Sif pointedly doesn't respond to the question. “He wishes only to speak with you, nothing more.”

Jane looks back at Bruce again. “I'll go if Bruce comes.”

“I... suppose that would be acceptable to Odin,” Sif allows. How magnanimous of her.

“What about Helix?” he asks.

Sif looks down at her and smiles. “Infants travel through the bifrost safely, she will be fine. Perhaps cover her eyes so that she will not be frightened.”

“Okay...” Bruce murmurs, frowning.

Jane gestures towards the bedroom. “Sif, we'll be back in a minute.”

“Of course,” Sif says.

Bruce follows Jane into the back of the RV and sits down on the bed. She sits down beside him.

“So, what do you think?” she asks.

“I think it kind of sounds like you're going to get kidnapped or something if you go to Asgard.”

She sighs. “Yeah, I know... But, I think I trust that Sif wouldn't lie to me.”

“Do you trust that Odin wouldn't lie to her?”

“I...” She sighs and runs her fingers though her hair. “I don't know, but I think Sif would have my back if anything happens. I don't want to escalate the situation, he's an angry old man who can do magic, you know? And... Hulk's stronger than Asgardians, right?”

Bruce nods slowly. “Yeah...”

“Would you rather not come?”

“No, I...” He shrugs. “Who wouldn't want to visit another planet?”

She raises her eyebrows. “But?” she prompts, and pokes him in the arm.

“But...” He grimaces and shakes his head. “Thor's going to be there.”

“What do you think is going to happen?” she says, maybe too sharply, because Bruce flinches a little. “I mean, uh, honestly, what are you worried about?”

“I...” He fidgets his fingers in his lap. “I don't know. It just... feels weird.”

“Oh, it's weird, that's for sure.” She smiles. “But look who I'm talking to.”

He laughs and ducks his head. “Okay,” he says, “it's not exactly where I thought we'd going, but...”

She kisses him on the cheek and gets up. “Sif?” she calls. “We're just going to get dressed, then we'll come with you.”

“Take your time,” Sif calls back. “Your Helix is wrestling with my hand.”

-

Jane imagines that they must look like quite a strange grouping, standing in an empty parking lot near the trailer park: a warrior woman in armour, a woman in a sweatshirt and jeans, and a guy in a plaid shirt holding a dog to his chest.

“Heimdall!” Sif calls.

“Beam us up,” Bruce mutters. Jane grins and puts her arm around his waist.

The ride is as exhilarating as she remembers and she tries to keep her eyes open for as much of it as she can, but her eyes start to water and she shuts down just as they arrive in Asgard.

“Wow,” Bruce breathes. Helix squirms away from having her face covered and sneezes.

Jane looks around the characteristically gold surroundings, and at Heimdall, the golden protector. She always liked him, mostly because he was one of the few on Asgard who didn't seem to feel the need to fill every moment with noise. Him and Hogun, really. Asgard is a noisy place.

He nods to her and she nods back.

“I shall tell Odin that you have returned, Lady Sif,” he says.

“Thank you,” she says, and gestures for Jane and Bruce to follow her out of the observatory.

The bridge connects directly to the palace, and they pass guards and servants on their way in. Bruce is clearly trying to do his best not to gawk at all the grandeur, but his head is still swivelling a little. He tries to act so cool all the time, but show him a little alien royalty... She bumps his hip gently and smiles at him. He looks a little... far away.

Sif leads them to one of the many great halls and leaves them to wait there. There are servants stationed in the room, and as soon as Sif leaves, a couple of the chambermaids close in on them.

“Lady Foster,” one of them says. She recognises the woman from other visits. “I will take you to a bed chamber to change your clothes.”

“And I will show you to the solarium,” another servant says to Bruce, gesturing to the door.

“Uh...” he murmurs, looking at Jane. She looks back at the chambermaid.

“Excuse me?”

“I will give you appropriate attire to address the king. Your companion may wait comfortably in the solarium.”

“No,” Jane says.

The servants share a look and the chambermaid looks back at Jane with a pinched expression. “You must be dressed appropriately to meet the king.”

“No,” Jane repeats, and looks away.

“Lady Foster--”

“I'm sorry,” Jane says, “but the _king_ requested my presence.” She tries to be all high English sounding, thinking about her English granny who insisted that the family was related to the royals via the Queen Mum. “If my attire is not pleasing to the king, I will gladly leave.”

The woman stares at Jane for a moment, then sighs. “As you wish.”

“Shall I...?” the other servant asks, looking at Bruce.

Jane takes his hand. “He's staying here.”

“Of course, my lady,” the woman murmurs. The two of them walk away from Jane and Bruce, talking in low voices. Jane rolls her eyes.

“They seem pissed,” Bruce says.

“People in Asgard are always pissed about something,” she says, and looks over at one of the balconies. “Let's go wait out there.”

“Are we allowed to?” Bruce asks.

She shrugs and tugs him towards the balcony. The guards watch them go, but don't move, so she guesses they're picking their battles. Bruce puts Helix down, wrapping her leash around his hand, and as soon as they're out on the balcony, she starts yapping at the ravens perching on the eaves above them. The ravens seem to eyeball Helix, and Jane wonders if they're going to swoop down and try to eat her, because she's heard about stuff like that happening, but they seem content where they are.

Bruce is looking over the balcony, at the glittering water below and the glittering buildings around them. “Wow,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” she says, and leans her forearms against the railing.

“Are you...” He pauses and looks around. “This place is so...”

She looks at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence. He sighs and shakes his head.

“Jane, we live in a van.”

“It's a nice van,” she says. “Don't you like it? Do you want to go back to New York?”

“No,” he says, “no, I like it. I love it, it's... the best I've felt in a long time, but it's still a van. This is literally a palace.”

She looks out at the water and the little boats going back and forth. “Yeah, it is. It's a palace full of royalty and rules and people looking down on me. I'm, both of us, we're like children here. And I've got to be honest, I like being the smartest person in the room.” She smiles and looks back at him. “I'm not ready for that to change.” The ravens above them hop along the eaves then take flight, wheeling around the side of the palace and disappearing.

He smiles back a little, but it doesn't meet his eyes. “The work you could do here, though. It's beyond... beyond.”

“Sure it is. But I'll never be equal in anyone's eyes here, maybe not even Thor's, and... nothing's worth that, not even science. I mean, their version of stem cell research is, like, kindergarten stuff.” She takes hold of his hand again, twisting their fingers together. “And I'd... well, there are other reasons why I wouldn't want to live here.”

Bruce smiles again, this time reaching his eyes, and squeezes her hand back.

“The king is ready for you, now,” one of the servants calls to them from the door.

Jane sighs and tugs his hand. “Let's get this over with. I really just want to go back to bed.”

“I'm not sure I ever woke up,” he says.

They're led through a couple of rooms and a long hall before reaching the throne room. The guards at the doors eye Bruce and Helix, but she supposes word has got around, because they don't say anything. The servant opens the door and calls out to Odin.

“Lady Foster, my lord. And her... companion.”

“I didn't know 'companion' could sound like an insult,” Bruce says under his breath, as they walk in.

The moment Helix lays eyes on Odin, she starts yapping like a little demon. Bruce picks her up again, shushing her, and Odin tips his chin up, staring at the three of them.

“Is that creature...” Odin pauses for a moment, then sniffs. “Is that creature going to continue making that noise?”

“She doesn't like strangers,” she says. “Sorry.”

“I see that,” he says.

Helix quiets down, but squirms irritably in Bruce's arms instead. Bruce shushes her again, and looks up at Odin. His eyes narrow a little, but he doesn't say anything. 

She looks away from Bruce, back to Odin. “So, um, what do you want to... talk to me about?” she asks.

Odin keeps looking at Bruce for a moment, then turns his attention to her. “Yes, I wish to talk to you about Thor.”

“I had guessed that much,” she says, and her cheeks begin to warm. Backchatting to an alien God probably isn't the smartest idea. “Has he done something?”

“He has been rather distressed in the months since he returned from Midgard.”

“I'm sorry,” she says, and she is. She knows what it's like to feel distress like that, for months and years at a time. Maybe a few months ago, she wouldn't have been sorry about it, but now she is.

“Nothing soothes him, not warfare, or alcohol, or... women.” He pauses to look at her, and she clears her throat and stares right back. “I am concerned about him.”

“Sure, yeah,” Jane says slowly. “So...”

“I was hoping that there was a possibility of reconciliation,” Odin says.

She glances at Bruce, who purses his lips and looks at the ground, then back to Odin. “There's not.”

Odin tips his chin up. “The whole palace would be open to you, we have what you refer to as 'laboratories', and many scholars that you can consult with.”

She shrugs. “I've got all that back home, minus a palace. Although Stark Tower is pretty close.”

Odin's gaze drifts to Bruce, then back to her. “Being a princess of Asgard would afford you many privileges.”

“I'm no princess,” she replies, then sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. “Look, I didn't mean to make Thor unhappy – or myself, but that's what happened. I don't know if you guys have psychiatrists up here, but on Earth there's this thing called 'mental health' and mine is pretty shaky right now.”

“Yes,” Odin says, “I am aware of this...” He glances at Bruce. “Mental dullness.”

“Thanks,” Jane murmurs. “Okay, I'm done here. Come on, Bruce.” She nods to the door, and Bruce starts making a move towards it.

“Wait,” Odin says. Jane stops, half turned away from him, and looks back without turning all the way to him again. “I apologise for my rash words. I'm simply...” His mouth curves up in what almost looks like a smirk. “Worried about my only son. He has... thrown himself into the mundanities of day to day life in Asgard in a way that is unusual for him.”

“Your _only_ son?”

He keeps smiling at her. “My only surviving son, I should say... There is nothing I can say to make you reconsider? Your decision is set?”

She looks at Bruce, then takes his hand. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Odin nods. “It is no matter. There will... be others.”

Jane rolls her eyes and pulls on Bruce's hand. “Come on.”

Odin doesn't argue and they go back out to the hall. The servants fuss but Jane strides past, telling them that she'll show herself out, Bruce close at her side.

“Wow, that guy gave me some really strange vibes,” he says, and puts Helix back down. She starts yapping immediately.

“He's a dick.”

“No kidding,” he says. “He kept looking at me. It felt...” He trails off, frowning.

“What?”

He frowns for a moment longer, then shrugs. “I dunno. Nothing, I guess.”

Sif draws up beside them from nowhere and falls into step. Jane sighs and looks at her. “Hello.”

“The conversation went well, I take it?”

“It went,” Jane says with a shrug.

The corner of Sif's mouth quirks. “I see. And now you are leaving?”

“And now I am leaving,” Jane confirms.

Sif nods. “I will walk with you.”

“Worried we're going to steal the china?”

Sif frowns. “Is China not a territory in Midgard?”

Bruce laughs a little and Sif's frown morphs into a scowl. Jane tries to hide her smile. “It is, but it's also a... a material that plates and stuff are made out of. Sometimes it's worth quite a lot.”

“Why does Midgard insist on having words with multiple meanings?” Sif asks, still scowling.

“We're just uneducated children, I guess,” Jane says.

“That much I already know,” Sif murmurs.

Jane looks at Bruce and pulls a face. Sif leads them to the observatory, with minimal conversation. Mostly she looks at Helix and asks questions about her; Bruce handles the discussion of the care and keeping of canines.

“Heimdall,” Sif calls when they reach the grand room.

He holds up a hand. Sif rolls her eyes. “My brother does not understand common courtesy,” Sif tells them in a loud whisper.

“Your brother?” Bruce repeats. “How does... that work?”

“We are the children of nine mothers,” she says off-handedly.

“Nine...?” Bruce murmurs and looks at Jane. She shakes her head; Sif attempted to explain it to her once, and Jane could never figure out if the 'nine mothers' was a metaphorical thing or a lesbian commune or what. The outer shell begins to spin as it receives travellers, and Bruce looks around, slightly alarmed. “Is the room spinning or am I just having a stroke?”

Jane grins. “The room's spinning.”

“Oh good,” he mutters, and picks Helix up again.

The observatory spins faster and faster, energy crackling around them, her hair floating up with static electricity, Bruce and Sif's doing the same. Four white shapes begin to materialise in front of Heimdall's podium, quickly taking the shape of four men, one notably larger than the others...

Shit.

“Oh,” Bruce says, although it's of a sigh than an actual word. Sif just cringes.

And then, Thor is standing in front of her, looking at her in her jeans and sweatshirt, her scraped back hair, and her make-up free, tired face.

“Hi,” she says, and her voice comes out small. Too small.

“Jane,” Thor says warily, eyes drifting to Bruce. Bruce steps away from her a little.

“Hi,” she repeats. Her brain has screeched to a halt, apparently. Time for a reboot.

The Warriors Three stand around awkwardly behind Thor. She suddenly thinks of her junior prom, boys and girls segregating themselves on either side of the gym, once loud-mouthed boys reduced to looking at their feet and mumbling to each other. She snorts.

Thor frowns. “Is something amusing?” he asks with a note of frustration in his voice.

She starts to shake her head, then stops. “Actually... yeah, It's all funny, Thor, the whole thing.”

He scowls. “I do not share in your amusement, _clearly_ ,” he says sharply. “Perhaps you could explain.”

She sighs and looks around at her audience. Everyone's staring at her, except for Bruce, who's looking at the ground. She clears her throat. “Well, it's everything, you know. Aliens, Gods, superheroes, your dad trying to convince me to be a princess...”

“My father?” Thor repeats. “You're here because of my father?”

“He requested a meeting with her,” Sif says.

Thor frowns at her, then at Jane. “Be assured that I was unaware of this. He should not have dragged you from...” His eyes sweep up and down her, then Bruce. “Your bed.”

She decides to let the bed comment slide. “Yeah, I know, it's not really your style.”

Thor purses his mouth, another scowl passing over his face for a moment before he sighs and his shoulders slump. “Let's not bicker over inconsequential things,” he says. “I have had months to think on my mistakes.” He looks and takes a deep breath. “I realise that you felt suffocated. I wore on your nerves. I did not give you time to process your feelings of aggrievement towards me...”

Jane listens to Thor giving his speech, which sounds awfully rehearsed; if not psychiatrists, maybe Asgard has couples counselling. He continues to list his shortcomings in front of their entire audience, and it's just crushingly embarrassing, for her and, she imagines, for him. Which is probably how he felt the last time they argued.

She holds up a hand. “Thor. Thor, stop.” He trails off and stares at her, eyes wide. “I don't know what you're...” Well, that's a lie, she knows exactly what he's trying to do. “Look, I... know that I hurt you, and I was hurt and... a lot of that was my own fault.”

“Jane...” Thor murmurs.

She shakes her head. “No, look, I never did know when to let something go, but... life's really short. For me. And you'll have, like, infinite years after I'm long gone.” She shrugs. “You'll get over it. I'm just a... very small part of your very big life.”

He flinches, eyes going large. She feels a hint of regret, but nothing stronger – not anger or love or distress. And Bruce thinks she can't be a cold bitch.

“I believe the lady is ready to depart,” Heimdall says.

Thor looks at her sadly, and she turns her attention back to Bruce, who's shifting from foot to foot.

“Come, Thor,” Sif says. “Feasting will begin shortly.”

“Ah, a fine feast for a fine day's work!” Volstagg exclaims jovially. A little _too_ jovially.

Jane looks back at them: Fandral has thrown his arm around Thor and he and Volstagg are leading him out. Hogun follows behind and nods to her as he passes. Sif turns to her and bows her head slightly.

“It has been a pleasure to see you again,” she says.

Jane raises her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Well...” Sif looks at her with amusement. “I enjoyed learning about the canines of Midgard.”

Jane laughs and takes hold of Bruce's arm, leading him to stand in front of Heimdall's podium.

“Non-travellers must leave the observatory,” Heimdall intones. Sif hurries to join the others by the door. “Entirely out of the room,” he adds, not looking back.

Sif lays her hand on Thor's shoulder and urges him over the threshold, talking in his ear, but he still looks back at Jane over his shoulder. She raises her hand. 

“Bye, Thor,” she calls, waving to him. He nods back. 

Her heart clenches for moment, until Bruce's arm moves slightly in her grip. She looks at him and he smiles with his slightly crooked teeth and his big brown eyes.

“I was thinking,” he says, as the room begins to spin and he tucks Helix into his shirt, “we should head to California next. I know some people at CalTech...”


End file.
